Growing Up Is Hard To Do
by Bird02
Summary: Archie Morris is changed by the arrival of an unconventional new doctor, who will challenge all he knows about life and love. Season 13-AU, MorrisOC, some hints of Reela, exploration of Archie's past.
1. Welcome To The Circus

_A/N: Hi everyone. I've never done an ER fic before. I've been reading on the site for a while, though, and I really wanted to do a story about Dr. Morris. So, I created an OC who had the potential of being taken as a joke by fellow County staff and who could relate to the problems Morris has of being considered a serious doctor. I hope you like it. _

_Update 7/19/09: After a lot of thought, I decided to compile a soundtrack of music that I felt could provide a sort of soundtrack to the story. Most of it was included in a mix that I listened to while writing, and a few friends who read the story with the backing music said that they liked the added dimension. So, I thought I would share it with you. The link is available in my author profile._

_Disclaimer: I don't own ER or any of the characters. I did, however, make up Dr. Leslie Thomas._

A slew of reporters had filled the ER waiting room, straining to see the staff milling behind the desk. What had started as a typical first day for a new Attending Physician had quickly spiraled into an all-out media frenzy. Frank was yelling at one after another; Kovac had become annoyed after telling a nosy reporter "No comment" for what felt like the seventieth time that day. Security was on-hand to keep the ER operational and protect legitimate patients from being trampled by the paparazzi-like assault. The place was a mess. One man waiting turned to another. "You think Brian Urlacher's in there?"

As he pushed through the door, flashing his badge, Morris made his way through the crowd, microphones and recorders pushed under his nose and a buzz of questions coming at him from all directions. Normally, Morris would have loved to have been the ER's spokesman for the day, schmoozing with the reporters and smiling for the cameras, but today, he was trying to avoid being noticed, as he'd been almost twenty minutes late. He also had no idea what was going on, but he was glad for the distraction. The redheaded doctor managed to slip past the desk, whisking a chart and slipping on a lab coat successfully under the radar.

Suddenly, the crowd shifted, lights surging to life and journalists pushing their photographers to the front of the pack, hoping for a decent shot. Morris stepped up onto a shelf at the desk, craning to see what they were all buzzing about. Frank didn't look up from the computer. "Damn vultures. They're going to tear Doogie apart." Sam turned from the admit window.

"Doogie? Honestly, Frank." Before Morris could ask, he heard Kovac yelling for everyone to move aside as he cleared the way for a gurney charging through to a trauma room. There was a blinding shower of camera flashes as it passed. Several of the reporters had pushed through to the doors of the newly-occupied trauma room. Frank was already calling for more security, lifting a hand to a straggling reporter busily scribbling notes and firing questions.

"What the hell's going on in here?" Morris asked, powdered sugar falling onto his beard and coating his lips as he stole a quick breakfast from an open donut box on the counter. The inside flap of the lid had a large, bubbly-printed note in purple pen. _Thank you for this opportunity. I look forward to working with you all. – Leslie_

"Oh, you mean Dr. Thomas?" Abby interjected. "Remember that girl that graduated from Northwestern Medical at 21 a few years back? Daughter of some politician? Well, she finished her residency. Guess what hospital picked her up as an Attending? And she brought treats!" Abby added with fake enthusiasm. Four police officers were pushing the reporters from the ER with much effort, leaving a walkway to the trauma room. Morris couldn't resist; sticking the clipboard under his arm, he briskly approached the swinging doors, peering through the glass.

He located her immediately. A short stranger with an average build in brown slacks and a pink button-down top and lab coat was pulling on glasses and gloves, easing into a trauma gown held for her by a nurse. Leslie's eyebrows were arched, and she wore a serious frown on her face, focusing on the patient before her. Though Kovac was trying to lead the trauma, she seemed to be in her own world, easily navigating the anatomy and tools and watching the series of screens and monitors out of the corner of her eye, a piercing aqua green. She had a knot of dark blonde hair at the base of her neck and a noticeable splatter of freckles on her face, making her seem even younger. He had to admit she was sort of cute. Still amazed, he whispered under his breath, "She can't be more than-"

"26. She's 26," finished a short Asian woman in a smart gray suit next to him. "And incredible. Daughter of Senator Roland Thomas from Des Moines. Finished high school at 15. Through college, medical school, and internship in 7 years. How does it feel to be working with her?" He was aware of a pen being clicked and readied on a notepad. Without a word, Morris turned toward Curtain Three to check out a patient and sign off on some tests that had been ordered. This was going to be a long week.

* * *

"That was very good. You did very well in there. Your first trauma at County," Kovac offered, as she watched the surgical team take her patient into the elevator. He'd been a thirty-one-year-old hotdog vendor, downed by a hit and run.

Leslie turned to him, sighing, "Welcome to the circus." Luka frowned, opening his mouth to ask what she was talking about, but she gestured absently to the security keeping the reporters at bay. "Every milestone, they show back up. And every time, my dad is a little more important than last time, so more of them show. But they'll forget about me soon enough, and I'll be just another doctor, I promise. Give me a week or so." Kovac smiled, looking over at her. She was just a kid.

"I don't think you'll be 'just another doctor' for a few years." Leslie winced and pursed her lips.

"Dr. Kovac-"

"Luka," he firmly interjected. She smiled now for the first time since the trauma.

"Luka," she corrected. "It's just a number. I've been through all the same coursework and residency. I'm just like anyone else here, just maybe with a little more time before the gray sets in."

"I know. You wouldn't be here if you weren't competent, or able to handle all this," he added. Leslie gazed out at the reporters snapping pictures from the windows about thirty feet away. She frowned again and shook her head before following Luka toward the desk.

* * *

Leslie sipped her coffee in the locker room, a blush to her cheeks as Hope kept firing questions. "So when they say perfect SAT, they mean _perfect?_" Hope hadn't touched her salad and was staring at the woman no older than herself who was an ER Attending. Leslie nodded sheepishly, obviously not the first time she'd answered these questions. "And you escaped Northwestern with just two B's?!"

"Why don't you tell me about yourself, Hope? Where did you go to school?" she asked, politely trying to direct attention away from herself. Hope simply replied that it was just some little old place and wasn't important, following it with more questions. Morris could have sworn he saw the smallest cringe as Leslie listened to more questions.

"Pathetic, isn't it?" Gates spat as he crossed his arms. "It's all anyone wants to talk about. Some silver spoon trust fund kid skips a few grades and sacrifices a social life to please overbearing parents. She regurgitates some facts and impresses a few grownups, Dad pulls a few strings, and she's a doctor."

"You're talking about it, aren't ya?" scoffed Frank. Gates shot him a look and turned to the board.

"What do we got? Possible cracked ribs. Head lac. Twin boys food poisoning in two. Hmph, why don't we let Doogie check that one out?" he asked. "Maybe break her in a little." Morris turned to the intern in annoyance.

"Because she outranks you," Morris replied flatly. As Gates prepared to reply, Leslie pushed in between them, staring at the board with interest and pretending she hadn't been listening to Gates. "There's a rib fracture in four, if you-" Morris began to offer.

"Thank you… Archie, but I think Tony and I were going to check out that food poisoning in two. Two patients; two doctors. Just in case he needs help. I don't think I'm above a little work in the trenches every once in a while. Besides, a peds case. Kids are the highlight of my day. Being that I just was one," she added with a smile. Gates shot Morris a look and trailed along behind Dr. Thomas.

* * *

As the ambulances pulled up, the doctors and nurses prepared for the family waiting inside. SUV rollover. A mom and three kids. The doors swung open, and gurneys emerged. The staff dispersed, but the noise had caught the attention of the ubiquitous press, and they descended again, cameras rolling. Leslie was calling out orders, but her voice was suddenly drowned, as a journalist placed himself between her and the gurney.

"Come on, guys, really. All this fuss over me?" Leslie asked lightly with a smile for the nearest camera, hoping that the people around her would let her work if she just played along. It was no use; more were quickly approaching to completely surround her. "Please, it's my first day. It's just like the first day of residency or med school. Not right now; I'm busy," she pled in frustration. But the crews were determined, and Leslie was watching the gurney move away helplessly. Suddenly, they were being forcefully pushed aside.

"Hey, back off. We need Dr. Thomas inside. Move it! Get outta here!" A hand forcefully yanked her through the doors. Gates had gotten her back into the building while the two ambulance drivers held back the parted crowd. Leslie tried to thank him, but Gates was already tubing his patient.

* * *

Leslie Thomas stared up into the night sky, hugging herself to keep warm as a chilly breeze rolled in from the direction of the lake. _Unseasonably cold. _It didn't necessarily bother her; she'd always liked the cold. The lights of the city gleamed before her, and she suddenly felt very small and insignificant, a feeling that she hadn't felt in a while. The child of a politician and lawyer, she'd been used to the limelight almost since birth. And ever since she'd started school in the second grade, skipping both kindergarten and first, she'd simultaneously been an outsider and the perpetual center of attention. "Long day?" a voice asked from behind her. She didn't turn around, just nodded, pulling the lab coat a little tighter and noticing that it had been spattered with vomit from the twins earlier. "I don't blame you for not getting out of here right away. Those reporters… what a nightmare. But they're gone now. I think they thought you slipped out the back since your shift was technically over-"

"Two hours ago," she finished, glancing over at Archie Morris beside her. He was the only person who hadn't either treated her like she hadn't earned her job or like she was some kind of god. She was so sick of proving herself and defending herself and fielding questions. Archie was the first friendly face, the first person to approach her casually and seemingly without agenda. Though not exceedingly sharp or devastatingly handsome, he would certainly do for company's sake. To Leslie Thomas, former whiz kid and current hotshot doctor, the only thing worse than being hounded was being alone. "Do you drink? Because I do, and I don't know this area well enough to know where I can get a Blue Moon on tap. And if I don't get one tonight, this day will have ended on a real low note." Archie smiled. He happened to know just the place.

* * *

"Hey," the bartender said, staring from the stool in front of him to the TV in the corner. "That's you." Leslie glanced up at the screen, watching herself working through the trauma with Luka.

"That's a horrible angle for you," Morris joked beside her. "And whoever's lighting you clearly does not like you much. I mean, that _shadow_," he added with mock disdain. Leslie grinned and removed the orange wedge from her glass, squeezing it into her beer.

"I give you credit for being here. Right now, I think _I'm_ even sick of me," she said, looking at her new drinking buddy.

"Well, I don't know if you noticed, but I'm not the most popular guy in the ER. I started things here on the wrong foot. I gave people the wrong impression. Well," he said thoughtfully, "maybe at the time it was the right one. Anyway, I think I'm still sort of a joke. It's been worse since things got weird between me and one of the med students," he trailed off, somewhat to himself. Maybe he hadn't meant to say that last part out loud. Leslie quickly recovered the conversation before it could sink into an awkward quiet.

"Hope," Leslie said with a nod. "Yeah, she's a lot. She'll make a great doctor, I bet. Cute girl, but a lot, I'm sure. And no, I didn't pick up on that vibe about you, but I guess I'm not a great judge of people. I was pretty distracted today. Things are weird for me too. I wasn't supposed to be in Chicago. Life just has a funny was of giving you hell when you need it the least, I guess." She got a distant look, swirling her glass absentmindedly.

"Maybe it's none of my business but…" Morris trailed, hoping she would elaborate on 'wasn't supposed to be in Chicago.' Having had two beers and working on a third, Leslie was very open and didn't disappoint with her level sharing of otherwise intimate portions of her personal life.

"Yeah… I was sort of seeing this professor of mine from Northwestern. When he went to another university, I followed and did my residency nearby. I thought we were serious, you know? When I'd started seeing him, I was still in his class, and he said he never did that sort of thing, never dated a student. I trusted him. Stupidly, I trusted him. A few years later, I found out, that I wasn't an exception; he saw several students, and he continued to do so during my residency. I'd been sort of oblivious to it with the long hours I was putting in. Who knows? Maybe I knew all along but was just in denial because everything seems to have this way of working itself out for me. Obnoxiously so, right?" she asked Morris with a derisive laugh. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, regretting asking her to divulge such a personal thing, but she continued, "So, I wanted to get as far away from Gordy as I could. _Gordy_," she spat. "I should have known that a grown man who went by 'Gordy' probably wasn't the serious relationship type. No offense, Archie," she added, giving him a playful nudge.

"You know, when I saw you today, I thought you seemed so young, but when I talk to you, you just don't seem like 26. I guess I was a lot different at 26." Leslie giggled, rolling her eyes.

"I haven't been 26 for a long time. Not really. Look at the life I lead. I'm just as old- if not older- than you are. Just not according to my birth certificate… or my reflection in the mirror," she added dramatically, before swilling the last of her drink. "Well, to hell with the other people at County; I like you, Morris." The sound of his last name on her lips stung him just a little bit. It was a bit too friendly, too much of a pal sort of thing. He liked to entertain the idea of being more than just a "pal."

"I liked it better when you were calling me Archie," he bravely retorted, drawing a smile from her and a nod. Leslie playfully agreed to calling him by his first name. "You need another one?" he asked, pointing to her glass. Morris knew that she shouldn't, but a part of him wished that she would, simply to draw the night out a little longer. It was the most fun he'd had in a while. She studied the glass for a moment before scooting back from the bar.

"Nah, I'm okay. The discrepancy between my physical and mental age- whatever. But I'm definitely only 120 lbs., and three beers is all I can take before I really make an ass of myself." He looked at her, perched on the bar stool. Her hair was fraying out of the knot it had been in, loose tendrils framing her face. Her porcelain cheeks were pink from the alcohol. The tails of her shirt were wrinkled from being tucked in and now hanging loosely over her pants. She seemed a lot less up-tight and on-stage as she'd been at work; he liked her this way.

"Let me put you in a cab," he offered. She shook her head quickly, saying that she may not have known the city that well, but she knew she only lived a few streets over. "Then let me walk you home," he smiled.

"Fine," she sighed in a sing-songy way, obviously having enjoyed herself at the pub. "But I _didn't_ flirt with you," Leslie reminded him firmly. "And I'm _not_ interested in you," she added, leaning toward him to emphasize her point, though her expression alluded otherwise.

"Oh no," Morris replied somewhat mockingly, thumbing through his wallet for a tip. He turned to see her fumbling unsuccessfully with the sleeves of her jacket. He guided her hand through the sleeve, perhaps letting his hand linger a moment longer than natural on her forearm. "I wouldn't want to compromise my only friend in the ER. You know, I think you're the first girl I've ever met that would rather have a cold one than a fruity, frilly, -tini of some sort." Morris politely held the door for her as she strolled out onto the sidewalk, the streetlight casting a mysterious shadow on her. She'd pulled her hair from the knot and was shaking it loose now.

"Please," she snorted and gave her hair a toss. "If it comes with an umbrella, it's not a real drink," she said, picking up speed and heading in the direction of her building, Morris jogging to catch up. He was aware of the beginning of an ache in his cheeks from smiling so much.

"I like you too, Leslie," he said quietly to himself.


	2. Open Window

_A/N: Hi to anyone who has decided to check this story out. I noticed a severe lack of Morris stories, as well as a lack of a real insight into his character on the show, so I'll be taking some liberties here (apartment, dog, family, etc.) because we really know very little about him. Also, I know that OC's are not always everyone's favorite, especially when they play somewhat large roles in the story, so thanks for giving this a chance. While the Hope-Archie storyline on the show is cute, I thought it might be an interesting dynamic to have someone who could understand his lack of respect. I envision this story taking place in an AU where Ray doesn't get injured, etc., basically eliminating what happened after the Ames storyline and replacing it with business as usual until the following fall. Does that make sense? Thanks for reading, and if you like it, please review!_

It had been over a month, and slowly, the interest in County General's "Doogie Howser" had dwindled to nothing. Initially, there had been a number of stories and news features, much to Leslie's embarrassment. Hope had made sure to cut them all out and pin them on the bulletin board in the locker room, and Leslie had made sure to take them down when no one was looking, although, a few had disappeared on their own. Leslie had her suspicions about that as well.

Since her first night, she and Archie Morris had remained friends, but they were perhaps closer in Archie's mind than they were in Leslie's. She was sure that Archie had the missing clippings tucked away somewhere, the pushpin holes still marking each corner.

Now, it was only patients who seemed to care about Leslie's youth. The majority who said anything recognized her from television, but there were some that rudely asked for a _real_ doctor. To them, Leslie obliged, placing their chart at the bottom of the stack and advising the others to take their time.

Leslie was always weary of the patients that asked for her. There was a type to them; mostly men from 20-30, and usually nothing really wrong with them. After treating three in only one shift, she'd made sure to announce that the next patient asking for her better be a relative, and the next staff member to call her "Doogie" would be reported to Kovac.

She'd already won the approval of the nurses when she'd helped Sam wrestle a patient into restraints. The Residents had been a bit more of a challenge. Abby had remained somewhat skeptical, especially when Leslie had chimed in on one of her teaching cases to the med students. Students had been quick to bring their questions to Leslie, as she seemed more like a peer than a mentor and therefore also more approachable, but Leslie was interested in coaxing the mentors into being more proactive with their students. In the end, a last-minute trauma save here, a decision in favor of one Resident over the other there, and Leslie had eventually blended into the pool of fellow Attending Physicians. Not a favorite by any means, but at least reliable enough to be trusted.

Morris had been keeping up with her progress, though mostly through stories and seeing her jetting out the door as he came in for a shift, or vice versa. He'd been meaning to get her number, but she was always talking to someone or immersed in her iPod. He'd been watching the schedule for an opportunity to work with her, but they had been few and far between, and the one time he'd switched a shift, she'd done the same in order to pick up her brother from the airport. He could count the number of shifts they'd had together during the three weeks on one hand. That's why he was particularly excited about a Friday morning shift that they had together; Friday morning meant Friday night would be starting when they left, the perfect time to ask her to dinner or drinks. He knew for a fact that she wasn't on again until Sunday, and he wouldn't be going in until Saturday evening.

He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, trimming his beard and gazing into the reflection, shrugging and rolling his bare shoulders like a boxer getting ready for a primetime match. He turned to the neatly laundered shirt and tie hanging on the back of the door and took a deep breath, fingering the silk of the tie. A salt-and-pepper schnauzer was standing on his hind legs, sniffing the blue shirt sleeve above him and wagging a stump tail. "I know, Pep. Papa's pulling out the big guns today. Armani."

On his way into the ER, an ambulance sped past, followed by another. Morris picked up the pace, running in to find Abby already on top of a gurney performing CPR. Leslie was at another gurney with Ray, assessing a patient with a pipe sticking through his side. "Construction site accident; the floor collapsed and sent five into an unfinished basement. Three more critical on the way," she called.

Through some miracle, Morris had managed to bring back a guy who had been buried beneath debris and had been delivered just as the paramedics had lost his pulse. He was on his way up to surgery to stop some internal bleeding. Neela had just left with the pipe guy and was escorting his patient in the elevator. He stood in the hallway, staring at the closed elevator doors as people ran this way and that on either side of him.

"Morris!" Sam called. "Two more on their way, three minutes out. And for God's sake, go change your clothes," she chastised in disgust, brushing past him. He shook his head, coming back into reality and stared down at his once-pristine crisp blue shirt, now saturated near his navel with a rich maroon blood stain. In all the confusion, he must have gotten his gown a moment too late. _Figures, _he thought.

He started loosening his tie and unbuttoning the shirt, reaching for the stack of plain green scrubs. There was just something about the scrubs that he'd never liked. They were comfy enough and certainly much more practical, but it made him feel somewhat less important to be shuffling around in a pair of baggy $20 glorified pajamas than to be swaggering around in a $500 designer outfit and freshly polished shoes.

"He got you, huh?" she asked from the doorway. Morris wheeled around to see Leslie standing in a pair of matching scrubs. "I was lucky; changed when I got here. I've learned my lesson and impressed all the people I think I needed to with my pencil skirts and dress slacks." _You certainly impressed me. _His eyes slipped momentarily over her body, now entirely cloaked in green. "When are you going to learn yours?" she asked with a smile. Before Morris could respond, she was gone again.

While not an overly-busy day, it was consistent, and Morris saw very little of Leslie away from patients and traumas. It was only when he saw her gathering her things in the locker room that he realized it was now or never. "Oh, hi Archie," she greeted breathlessly as he placed himself strategically between the door and his prey.

_Ask her, you idiot. Open your mouth and ask her. _"Hey, it's been a while since I've seen you. Shift gods don't seem to be cooperating." _You're pathetic. _Leslie reached into her pocket for her earbuds, replying awkwardly that she supposed it had been a while. "What're you listening to?" he asked, taking a step backward as she continued towards the door.

"Little of this, little of that. Right now, the Fray. Are you, um, trying to lock me in, or what?" she asked, her gaze shifting from the door to the man in front of her.

"Well, no. Of course not. I just- I've been thinking about you, and I was wondering if you were doing anything now, um, tonight? You know…yeah," he finished with a shift of his weight from one foot to the other. Leslie stopped, and her mouth opened for a moment, closing and opening again. She looked around quickly, as though searching for answer, and it was obvious that he'd caught her totally off-guard. _Smooth. Almost as smooth as these scrubs you're still wearing. What are you gonna wear if she says-_

"No. Yes. Wait, what _did _you ask me? I actually- I have a date," she finished slowly and perhaps a bit reluctantly… but maybe that was just optimism on his part. _A date? Already? That was fast work. Gates. It's got to be that bastard Gates. Or Pratt. Where do they get off? _His eyebrows must have arched a bit too high, and she continued quickly, "Yeah, a guy in my building. I was having this couch brought in, and the delivery guys just sorta left it in the middle of my place. I was scooting it, and Nick- the guy that lives below me- he, um, heard and came up and moved it, so…" A look of confusion swept over his features before being replaced with a slight scowl. _Some meathead in her building. Boy, she's desperate to get over that professor. I can't believe I waited this long; at this point, she'll take __anybody__ that comes along. At least it wasn't somebody at County, but what a tool. Spot the girl, swoop in to move the furniture and milk a date._

"Charming," Morris snickered sarcastically without thinking. _Oh shit. Think it, don't say it. _Leslie's eyes narrowed a bit, and her mouth drew into a tight line.

"Good night, Dr. Morris," she muttered, pushing past him and nearly colliding with Hope. The young blonde student whisked into the lockers, removing her scarf and coat. She studied the Attending and former object of her affection, who was now examining a deep stain in his shirt and mentally licking his wounds.

"You need some pretreater, Archie," she said, approaching with a spray bottle. "I know you don't usually do your own laundry, but I think you can get it out. This is what I do: First, I-" she stopped short, seeing that he wasn't paying attention. He was silent for a moment before his eyes seemed to pull back into the present, and he acknowledged her.

"Thanks, Hope," he murmured, taking back the shirt in his fist and playing with the sleeves. "I think I'll probably just drop it off at the cleaners," Morris said, a bit more clearly, lifting his eyes and attempting a smile. He stuffed it into his bag along with his tie and slacks.

A late-October spitting of snowflakes had begun, and a chill swirled in the air as the last of the sun drained over the city. Morris sat in his car at a stoplight, thinking about the mistakes he'd made over the past year. Hope… In the beginning, she'd been just another feminine form to chase. A sweet, and seemingly simple chase. There had been the added fun of corrupting her, but the more he'd attended those Bible studies, the more he'd gotten to know her, he'd realized that he cared about her. She just wanted to be a good person, and the idea of taking advantage of her suddenly made him feel guilty. She'd offered herself to him last Christmas Eve, and it was that moment that he'd realized that he just couldn't use women any more. Turning her down had been awkward, but she'd come around, appreciating his respect. It was just difficult after that. For all his attempts to be better, he just wasn't on Hope's level, and he didn't want to drag her down to his. He'd told her that he needed to find himself, but she already knew who she was. At first, it had been hard, and he'd almost called her lots of times, but it eventually got easier.

He'd realized that Hope had been an excellent remedy for the void in his life where friends and a genuine relationship should have been. Morris had always been forcing himself on others, trying a bit too hard to make himself seem fun and only further alienating himself. Like that party with Ray… what a disaster. After Hope, he'd stopped the partying for good. He'd completely cut out the pot, and he hadn't been really drunk since that awful night. _"You set the tone, Morris."_ Thinking about it, he'd really mellowed out since Hope came along, and after they'd gone their own ways, he'd really sobered. In the beginning, other people in the ER had bugged him about why he'd been so civilized lately, but then, they'd gotten the hint. Maybe it had been time for him to grow up.

But right now, he didn't feel like growing up. He felt like being petty and selfish and bitter. He felt like getting high. _She has a date. With some weirdo in her building. This is what happens when you stop being a pushy jerk and start being civil. You land square in the friend zone. _

After feeding Pepper and sulking around the apartment for an hour or two, Morris decided not to waste his Friday. He picked up his cell and dialed Moviephone, grabbing his keys. A mindless Frat Pack movie sounded better than a night on his couch, craving sweet release and doing anything in his power not to think about it, so he slid into an aisle seat in the packed theater midway through the trailers.

His spirits raised considerably, Morris decided to catch the last part of the Bulls preseason game at the bar. He'd just settled into a chair with a rum and coke when he caught the sound of a familiar giggle over the other voices. _You've got to be kidding. _He turned slightly to look at the doorway, where Leslie and a very tall dark-haired man who was taking her coat were looking around for seats. As fate would have it, an empty table was just behind Morris, but it was missing chairs, as a large group had gathered around three tables pushed together. _Please. If there is a God, let them just sit at the bar. _

"Hey, man, are you using these?" the voice sounded so smug, so arrogant, as if this guy knew that he was on Archie's date. He turned toward the chairs, and that's when Leslie noticed him. He watched her recoil, muttering something and looking around, embarrassed.

"Oh, hey Leslie," Morris greeted in a tone that was entirely too saccharine. Her date smiled, looking between the two.

"I thought you just moved here. You make friends fast, huh?" he asked with a somewhat uncomfortable chuckle, obviously wondering why some guy already knew her. Leslie folded her arms and cleared her throat.

"No, um, I'm sorry. I actually work with him. Nick, this is Archie Morris." Looking a bit relieved, Nick stretched out a hand to shake and delivered a much harder squeeze than necessary, followed by a macho half-hug, half-slap on the back. Morris could tell that Nick felt completely unthreatened by him, as though he couldn't possibly wrap his pea brain around the idea that Morris could ever attract someone like Leslie. It was insulting, but at the same time, amusing to him.

"_Doctor _Archie Morris," he corrected. "And no, take the chairs. I was actually on my way out." Nick threw his hands up.

"No, no! Don't leave. There's still almost four minutes in the game. Finish your drink, dude. You know what? Why don't you sit with us?" Archie's head cocked at the word 'dude.' His eyes shifted between Nick and Leslie; he'd struck gold. Leslie was vigorously shaking her head from behind Nick, and Nick was grinning dumbly, waiting for his response.

"You know, you twisted my arm," he replied. Nick slapped his back again. "What are you drinking? I've got this." Archie flagged his waitress.

"Bud Light," Nick replied. "Thanks man. Isn't this guy great?" he asked, nudging Leslie. She jumped at the poke, startled and awkwardly smiling in a very forced way.

"Oh, he's _something_," Leslie replied stiffly, smile shellacked on her lips.

"All right. Bud Light and a Blue Moon with an oran-"

"A sex on the beach," Leslie interrupted. Morris turned to stare at her. The waitress asked him if he wanted the Blue Moon, but he shook his head and eyed Leslie again. _She ordered the beer with you. She ordered the typical girl drink with him. That's where you stand. Call it a night before you embarrass yourself any further. _Leslie cut his thought short by standing. "Excuse me," Leslie said to Nick, who was already immersed in the game. She squeezed between the chairs in her hiphuggers and high heels that had elevated her to nearly his height. Her hair, curled into voluminous waves, bounced on her shoulders.

Now, alone with the man he considered competition, he couldn't resist testing the water and hoping to stir up the guy's insecurities.

"So how's it goin'? You know, with Leslie?" Nick inhaled deeply and paused, carefully considering his response. Somehow, Morris knew he shouldn't have asked. It was none of his business. Really, he had no reason to be angry with Leslie; she'd just accepted a date with a guy, after all. _You had your chance. _Nevertheless, he watched Nick's cockiness seem to waiver for a moment, and he had a feeling he was in for a guy-to-guy moment.

"She's cute. It's just... Listen, man, I know you work with her, but… well? Doesn't it freak you out? That whole doctor thing? She's only two years younger than me and she's a doctor. You know what I do? I sell paper. I didn't know that about her when I came onto her, but now I feel outta my league. I don't know what to talk about. I feel like I'm boring, man. I thought it would be like, a nice casual thing. I just don't want it to get weird; she lives in my building." Morris felt his stomach twist. He shouldn't be here. Not having this conversation. At the same time, he wanted to protect her. Leslie seemed so sweet, so innocent. He didn't want her lured into some casual booty call by some guy who didn't deserve her. _Where do you get off deciding who's worthy of her? _But he had only to look at Nick there flipping through his contacts list on his phone and know he was eying potential hookups if this didn't pan out to know that at least this guy was not worthy.

"That's why they say not to get involved with neighbors. Gets weird," he replied dryly. Nick nodded absently. "That's why you invited me to sit with you, isn't it? I mean, if things are going well, most people…" Nick continued to nod, watching the bathroom door over the top of his phone. He was working text messaging now. It only made Morris hate him more to think that he was already planning a replacement for her, as though she were interchangeable with any number of cute faces and curvy bodies. When the door opened, Nick quickly exited the text, flipping the phone closed again.

At the same time, Morris felt a twist of remorse. Not long ago, he had been Nick. He'd worked a smooth come-on a time or two and maybe given a girl hope in the name of a lay. He'd thought of another girl on a date. He'd been a jerk, but now, maybe fate would allow him to repent.

Leslie reclaimed her seat, bringing a sweet smell of strawberries with her. Her freshly glossed lips called Archie's attention immediately, and he couldn't help but stare for a moment. A slight pink lip print stained her straw. "It was a great movie, huh?" Leslie asked, turning once again to her date and breaking the silence. "I love Vince Vaughn."

"Wait, wait, you guys just got out of the 8:20 movie?" Morris asked. _Of all the movie theaters, of all the movies…_ Leslie turned to him deliberately, as though she'd been trying to forget he was there. Her eyes narrowed.

"What, are you following me? I can't believe you. Did you hear us talking about coming here, too? Are you gonna come along on _all_ my dates, Morris?" she spat. Nick's eyes were fixed on the television, but Morris could tell he wasn't watching. It was getting awkward fast, and now, he could see his exit. Her date turned to her and took one of her hands in his.

"Maybe I should let you guys work this out, huh? I'm gonna go. You'll be all right getting home, right? I'll call you," he offered, hugging her gently and placing a slight kiss on her cheek. He wasn't letting her get any words in. Leslie seemed flabbergasted. Her jaw was trembling as though she was trying to speak. She just stared. "Nice meeting you, man. Thanks for the beer," he called, waving over his shoulder and walking out the door.

Leslie's eyes slid to Morris, a threatening glint to them. Her lips made a thin, angry line. The redheaded doctor was shrinking into his seat. This was not what he'd had in mind sitting here. Maybe prevent a little kissing, maybe annoy Leslie, but not this. Who had he been to decide what was best between the two of them? Maybe she had wanted the same from Nick as he wanted from her. "Yeah, thanks for the drink," she hissed, tossing what was left of hers onto him and pushing away from the table, grabbing her coat and purse. She was making her way towards the door also, patrons dodging her as she stomped through.

Morris frantically dropped cash for the waitress and vaulted obstacles to catch her. Once out the door, he stopped short, recoiling. Leslie and Nick were talking below a streetlamp, gesturing and breathing heavy fog. Finally, Nick walked on ahead, leaving Leslie standing below the light, now leaning into it and watching him.

After Nick had turned a corner, Morris took a deep breath and approached. "You forgot your scarf," he said softly, brushing the cashmere against her fingers. They tightened around the fabric, taking possession.

"He wasn't much fun anyway," she sniffed, still not turning around. "All he talked about was paper and his high school football team." Morris hesitated, feeling guilty about all this and knowing that if he hadn't been there, she would probably still be inside enjoying herself.

"If it makes you feel any better, I think I just tipped the waitress with a hundred by mistake," he offered. She actually laughed and sniffled, turning around and shrugging.

"A little. I guess I just wanted to feel like I was fitting in and getting to know people. Ugh, he just clammed up when I told him about being a doctor and mentioned my dad."

"Guys do that when they're intimidated by strong women," Morris admitted, knowing that feeling all too well. She looked at the fresh stain on his shirt, covering her mouth with her hand and failing to conceal the smile.

"Sorry about your shirt. It hasn't been your day for laundry."

"Sorry I ruined your Friday night," he countered. Her eyes rolled playfully, before shyly casting at the sidewalk.

"There's still a couple hours left of my Friday night. It's close, but I wouldn't call it _hopelessly _ruined yet…" she trailed, lifting her eyes. Morris raised an eyebrow.

"And you can't give him the satisfaction of going home this early," Morris added. She placed the scarf around her neck and straightened up a little.

"You want to get some coffee?" she asked in a more gentle voice. Before he could reply, she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. "And don't worry; it's on me." Her eyes wandered back to the stain and then back to him. "But not literally, okay? I like this sweater."

_A/N: Soundtrack updated on IMEEM. See my profile for the link._


	3. Sound Of Silence

_A/N: I hope that there are still people reading this and that you like it. Please read and review. Thanks!_

In a cozy little all-night diner, the two sat facing each other in a booth next to a window, sipping the tops of their third cups of coffee. Leslie had propped her feet up on his seat, and in return, Morris had scooted to its edge, closing the distance between them ever so slightly. They'd been playing the Question Game and laughing like children. It was going so well that the chemistry between them had seemed palpable. Morris felt like he'd known Leslie for years, and he was confidently asking questions that he would never bring up on a tenth date, let alone a not-really-first-date. He was also saying things about himself that no one really knew. Stuff about medical school. Stories about his parents…

"Okay, my turn. Favorite scary movie?" he asked, as he dumped another plastic tub of half and half into a fresh cup of coffee. She thought about it for a moment and leaned forward as though she was about to divulge a huge secret.

"Maybe it's because that question reminded me of it… _Scream._" He curled his lip shot her a look of disgust.

"_Scream? _You _are _young. What was that, like a slumber party favorite for you? Like a first date movie? That makes me feel old, Leslie. Ouch. No, I mean like a _real_ scary movie, not some hack-'em-up, _reet-reet-reet _garbage," he said making a _Psycho-_esque screeching noise as he pantomimed a stabbing. "Like my favorite, _Silence of the Lambs,_" he declared proudly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"That's your favorite? Isn't that like the one where Anthony Hopkins eats people?" she asked.

"You've never seen _Silence of the Lambs_?" he asked in a horrified tone. She shrugged, lifting her cup to her mouth and blowing gently on the top before testing it with her lips and sipping it carefully. He opened his mouth but snapped it shut quickly and pointed to the door. "Get out. No, I can't hang out with you. Just leave, _really_," he said, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he tried to feign seriousness.

"I've been a little busy the past twenty-six, er twenty-seven years of my life," she countered. He leaned forward even more.

"Wait, when did you turn twenty-seven?" he asked. Surely someone had known it was her birthday. Surely. _Why didn't you know it was her birthday? _

"A few days ago. My birthday's just not a big deal, you know? It just puts me a little closer to the real age of an Attending, that's all. But I'd love to see Hannibal the Cannibal in action some time. You just name the place and time." He scratched his head and threw up his hands, feeling lucky.

"How about now?" When she laughed and asked if he was serious, he shrugged, "Why not?" Inside, he was begging her to agree. She made him feel like a hormonal teenager again, asking the girl to see the scary movie to be able to feel that testosterone-driven satisfaction over protecting her from the really awful parts and get in some shameless physical contact if she was one of those girls that hid her eyes against him.

"Because it's… after midnight," she reasoned. Something in Leslie's voice gave her away; she was reluctant to let the night end, too.

"And you're going to sleep after all that coffee?" he asked incredulously. She stirred her cup carefully, considering this and admitting that she was, in fact, wide awake. "Come on, my dog is probably worried about me anyway." This was his moment. He couldn't believe it; a girl at his place on his couch late at night with a scary movie. It couldn't have been better if he'd planned it.

"Well, in that case… I wouldn't want your dog to get an ulcer on account of me," she replied with a sideways glance, looking for their waiter.

* * *

"Pepper! Get down," Morris scolded. The dog responded by laying his ears back and wagging his tail sheepishly. Leslie hugged the schnauzer close to her on his large sectional sofa and thrust her lower lip forward in a sympathetic pout.

"He wants to stay here and protect me," she said, patting the dog's head. Morris watched the dog; it looked as though he was grinning and proud of himself. He had caught it though; 'protect me.' A new sense of hope for the direction of the evening sparked within him. Archie coolly turned on the DVD and settled in next to her.

As the movie played, Morris could not have paid less attention to it. Instead, he was fully aware of Leslie's every move. Slowly, he was shifting nearer to the center of the couch, and she seemed to be doing the same. _This is so high school. _He'd made sure to rest his arm on the top of the couch, and when the distance was close enough, it slowly inched down toward her shoulder. Just as the arm was about to make contact, she glanced at him. "Can you pause it?" she asked in a hopeful voice. "Where's your bathroom?" He pointed to the door next to the television, and she smiled and stood up, causing Pepper to lift his head and look around, wondering what was happening. When the door closed behind her, Morris cocked his head and looked at the dog.

"Pep, you're my four-legged wingman. Look at you moving her in. That's a good boy," he whispered excitedly, scratching the dog's head. As the door opened, he quickly replaced his arm on the back of the couch, holding his breath as she sat back down. She was so close that her leg was touching his, and as she leaned back into the cushion, she leaned into him, placing her head on his shoulder. Carefully, his arm lowered again, and she snuggled closer to allow him to place his arm comfortably. At one point, she actually grabbed the tail of his shirt when she jumped.

When it was over, the television flickered back to cable, briefly showing an image of a movie with George Clooney on HBO. "Oh my God," she said, looking up. "_Ocean's Eleven. _I love this movie. Do you mind if we watch just a little bit of it?" Leslie asked hopefully. Morris shook his head, smiling. He wanted so much to kiss her. Her eyes glistened in the light from the television, and they lingered on him longer than he would have expected. While it had never been a favorite movie of his, he could certainly stand to watch it again._ I'll watch every damn one of Clooney's movies if they'll keep you here. _

After about forty minutes, he felt an increase in the weight on his side and very carefully leaned forward to see Leslie sleeping serenely against him. Morris lifted his hand and pulled the blanket from the back of the couch to cover her before shifting his weight into the corner of the sectional. He couldn't believe how the night had turned. At three-thirty, the TV flicked off, blackening the room.

* * *

One green eye opened and tried to adjust to the darkness in the room, followed by another. Leslie glanced all around, but could not recognize her surroundings. As one hand felt around, it came in contact with a furry head and a soft warm tongue lapping a greeting on her fingers. _Oh. My. God. What time is it? 4:53?! Shit. Where is your purse? Where is your coat? Where is he- oh God. _She gingerly began to wriggle out of his grasp, using her hands to lift Archie's arm without disturbing him, but as she stood to retrieve her things, Pepper raised his head and let out a whine.

"No," she whispered. "Stay. Night-night," she coaxed, backing up. Unfortunately, she backed into a stool at the counter, causing it to hit the wall. Archie inhaled and stretched, sitting up and looking around.

"Where are you going?" he asked with a yawn.

"It's almost five o'clock," she replied, as though that was answer enough. He stood, steadying himself and rubbing his eyes.

"And what? Your parents are going to kill you?" he replied with groggy sarcasm and another yawn. "Listen, you can have my bed for a few hours. It's been a long week. It's been a really long day, right? Get some sleep and leave in a while." He was a few feet from her now, staggering ever closer and rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand.

"Oh Archie, that's-that's sweet. But I should really-" He was standing in front of her now, and his questioning stare stopped her excuses. One hand grasped her shoulder; the other tucked some stray hair behind one ear.

"You should really just stay," he finished. She hesitated, glancing over his shoulder at his bedroom door. "I can give you a t-shirt and some sweatpants to sleep in. They're clean; I promise. You can get up in a few hours and go on your way when it's daylight and safe, and I don't have to stay awake until your cab gets you home. Come on, think of me," he said with a chuckle. She smirked and bit her lip, finally agreeing.

In a few minutes, she was drowning in an old oversized baseball t-shirt and a pair of gray sweats, rolling down the waist until they no longer threatened to trip her. She hugged the fabric against herself; it was old and thin and soft from a hundred or more wears, and it smelled like fabric softener. She stared at the bed, at its navy comforter and plaid sheets. There was something odd about sleeping in the strange bed of an equally strange man. What concerned her the most, however, was that it would be much more difficult to sneak away in an hour or so with him in the living room and her closed into the bedroom. Leslie tiptoed out into the living room again, peering over the back of the couch to see if he was awake. Morris leaned his head back and smiled at her. "Did I lie about the bed? It's pretty cozy, huh? Look at you," he said, turning to look at her right-side up. "Few women can pull off the men's mismatched t-shirt and sweats, but you may just be one of them." Leslie blushed.

"It's…nice, but I can't take your bed. Why don't you let me have the couch?" she asked, watching him prop himself up on an elbow. "It was really comfortable." Morris sighed and shook his head, reclining into a pillow.

"Go to sleep, Leslie. Before I really do change my mind." Instead, she flopped down on the couch beside him. "I'm not moving," he said in a muffled sort of groan from the pillow.

"Neither am I," she replied stubbornly. He sat up and stared at her, his eyes opening up a bit more just as a smile washed over his lips.

"Oh yes you are." He lunged for her, sliding his arms under her back and legs. She squealed in surprise and laughed. He lifted her up, and she screeched and commanded him to put her down, nevertheless hanging onto him as he pushed the bedroom door open and tossed her onto the covers, launching himself onto the space beside her. Leslie was still laughing and trying to catch her breath, and she was becoming aware of how close they were.

"You're right; it _is_ comfy," she panted. Her smile was slowly fading, though, as she looked at him. "In case you're still asleep when I leave tomorrow, I had a really good time, Archie- in spite of everything." As the words hit him, Archie felt a weight lift away. He'd been wondering what she thought of his persistent attempts to stay. It was even better that she'd seemed sincere, as though it had not just been said out of politeness. Impulsively, he closed the gap between them, but she never moved as he pressed his lips to hers and wrapped his arms around her to support her as she reclined onto the pillow. When he drew back slightly, he watched her eyes sluggishly roll open. She looked like she wanted to say something, as though she was searching for words. Inside, Leslie was wondering what to think, what to say, what to do. _Stay here, _she thought, desperately trying to tell him without words.

He pulled the covers up around her and leaned over to kiss her cheek. As he did, she scooted just out of his reach to the other side of the bed, never breaking eye contact. Leslie wore a slight mischievous sort of smile as she moved, and it took all of his willpower to resist pouncing on her. Archie stood and folded his arms, returning her playful smile but also trying to hide it with a more stern expression.

"What are you doing?" He moved around the foot of the bed to the other side and gave her a playful shove, dissolving back into the smile. "This is _my _side," he said in a mock scold before lying down beside her, Pepper taking his spot on a flannel dog bed in the corner.

They laid silently beside one another, staring for a moment and considering what to do next. Morris nearly salivated at the thought of her pressing her body against his, but he waited for her to move first and determine the course of the next few hours. Unfortunately for him, her arms slowly made their way beneath her pillow, and her eyelids began to look heavy.

Leslie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She was surprised by how quickly she'd warmed to Archie and trusted him. There was just something nice about him, no matter what everyone at work gossiped about or what he'd done in the past. There was something… familiar about him. The last thing she felt before falling asleep was his touch on her head, gently stroking her hair.

Beside her, Morris watched the young woman drift off to sleep. When her breathing evened, he craned his neck to look at his nightstand. He reached for his phone, flipping it open and activating the camera. He turned it to face himself, making sure that her face was visible so that this wouldn't be another Albright incident. The camera snapped quietly. There was a clear picture of her face, hair falling around the pillow, but he stared at it with less pride than he had anticipated. His thumb grazed the 'erase' button with some hesitation, but then compressed it with a certain resolve. The phone spent its next several hours firmly in place on his nightstand, and Archie Morris spent his in quiet contemplation. _How did this happen?_

* * *

Morris grudgingly opened his eyes to meet the day at 11:14 AM. He hesitated for a moment before turning his head to look at the other side of the bed. Leslie was gone, just as he'd thought she would be. Nevertheless, he poked his head out the door to the living room and kitchen, hoping that she might be sitting at the counter eating a bagel and doing a crossword puzzle, still snuggled into his clothes. Instead, he found them laying neatly in the bathroom with a note resting on top. _Maybe now I should give you my number. See you Monday – Leslie._ Morris punched the digits into his phonebook with a smile.

He strode into work ten minutes early with a certain bounce to his step. "What are you so happy about?" Neela asked suspiciously from the desk. "Have you been getting high again?"

"No, no," Ray interjected, "I'm sure he's got all kinds of blurry dark camera phone pictures that he's going to try and convince us are of Leslie," he chuckled. Morris froze for a moment, wondering what excuse to give, but he didn't wonder for long; everyone was already scattering. It should have been nothing, as he was accustomed to being the butt of the joke and to being ignored, but this was particularly unsettling. _They don't believe you could ever be anything more than a nuisance to her. _

"Hey, Dr. Morris," Sam called, "Snap out of it. Multiple GSW four minutes out." The wind was somewhat let out of his sails, and he continued to the lounge with considerably less enthusiasm. Maybe he was kidding himself. Maybe it was just as it was with that oaf from her building. Maybe she was just new to the city and lonely. Maybe… but that smile. Those electric fingers on his neck as she kissed him. It had only been a few seconds. Probably not even as many as he thought, but still… Archie Morris was never one to look into things. He never got his hopes up about women past hoping that they would get drunk enough to sleep with him. But something about Leslie had penetrated that part of him and made him look forward to the next time he would just hear her voice or even briefly see her face.

Reaching into his locker, his fingers brushed the soft paper fibers of old newspaper clippings. Taking them had made him feel like some kind of stalker, but he had reasoned that he'd only saved someone else the trouble when they wanted to post the inevitable notices of free kittens from a nurse's cat or an invite to a holiday party. Now, having them seemed sort of silly, since he was actually talking to her about her life instead of having to read it from some nosy reporters who thought they knew everything about her after listening a minute or two of sound bytes and talking to her college roommate.

"Morris!" Sam interrupted his thoughts. He closed the door of his locker and threw his stethoscope around his neck, hurrying after her.

_A/N: Soundtrack available on IMEEM. The link is listed in my profile._


	4. Dating Suicide

_A/N: Hey again to everyone reading this. You may be happy to see that there are some other ER characters within this chapter. For the most part, I envisioned this story taking place outside of the ER, but some of it will, of course, happen at County General with the entire cast involved to some extent. Hope you like it and continue to read and review. Thanks to those who have reviewed, also. _

"Pratt, brother, I need help."

"Morris, tell me something I don't know," Pratt replied, signing off on a chart. "And how many times do I have to tell you that I'm not your 'brother,' your 'dog,' your 'boy'-"

"Okay, okay, okay," Archie interrupted impatiently. "Listen, I've been getting to know… this girl, and I need a birthday present. Something that says that I've got taste, and I'm interested and that I'm thoughtful." The man beside him laughed, turning to face him.

"Morris, to call you just one of those things would be giving you a lot of credit. Man, I don't know. The more I get to know women, the less I realize that I know about 'em." _He's a lot of help._

The red-headed Attending bent over the desk in thought. He was already late on Leslie's birthday but wanted to give her something nevertheless.

"Is she more of a summer or a winter?" Hope asked from the rack, not looking up.

"What?"

"A summer or a winter? You know, like an outdoorsy, warm-colors, beachy, summer kind of girl or more of a cooler col-"

"I get it, okay. Uh, winter. Definitely winter," he said, thinking of her pale skin and soft features.

"Is she a Christian?" _Not this again. I thought she was past this._

"Yeah, I mean, I think so. Does it matter?"

"Christmas ornament," she replied.

"It's not even Halloween," he protested.

"Exactly. If you're interested in something serious, it'll be something that she'll be thinking about using for the next month, and she'll associate those warm, fuzzy Christmas feelings with you. Plus, it makes you seem forward-thinking."

"And what if she doesn't celebrate Christmas?" he asked, straightening up and taking interest in what she was saying.

Hope shrugged. "Get something that she could just hang up without a Christmas theme. Maybe like a star or a snowman." It didn't sound like a bad idea, but he liked the idea of something more current. Plus, he honestly wasn't sure where to go for a Christmas ornament in October, but she was on the right track… "I can go with you if you need help," she offered.

Morris eyed her. It had been months since they'd awkwardly gone their own ways. Hope was now in her residency. He'd been sure that she would go elsewhere to get away from him, but she'd stuck it out at County, and a part of him was glad about it. Even though they were different people, he would always consider her a friend. Hope had truly believed in his ability to be a good person; that was special no matter the outcome.

"You wouldn't mind?" he asked. She took a bite of a sandwich and shook her head. "Sure, well, yeah, you could point out some things for me. That would be nice." She beamed, taking another bite of her sandwich and turning to the desk to start planning where they would go.

* * *

Despite Archie's apprehension about taking the closest he'd had to an ex in some time to shop for the new girl in his life, Hope had proven extraordinarily helpful. She steered him away from generic gifts like coffee table books (_"Who actually has one of those these days?"), _perfume (_"No, we're very particular about what we put on our bodies and what smells good to us."), _personalized dayplanners (_"She'll think you see her as 'disorganized and flakey.' Plus, ugh, how 'Teacher Appreciation' can you get?"), _and scented candles (_"What are you trying to say, that her house is smelly?"). _He threw up his hands in frustration and muttered maybe he had better just get her a hideous holiday sweater and cement his place as the world's worst gift-giver.

Hope pursed her lips at this and instead gave him a tug to a display of glass objects like punch bowls and vases. Hanging on a tabletop display rod shaped like a shepherd's staff was a lovely palm-sized snowflake with a blue silk ribbon. Something about it reminded him of Leslie, delicate and somehow simultaneously complex and simple in its beauty.

The blonde Resident excused herself for work, and Morris approached the counter with every intension of boxing up the snowflake, but something else caught his eye on the way. _It's too early for jewelry. You'll scare her off. In a couple months, though… _As he stared, a wonderful plan began to come together in his mind. It would be bold, yeah, but maybe it would be genius, too.

* * *

Chuney had warned Leslie about Halloween night. "It brings out all the weirdoes- full moon or not," the nurse assured her. Nevertheless, the new Attending had always been fond of the holiday, and she'd helped the nurses decorate. They'd watched her carving pumpkins in the lounge the night before with a scalpel, working on one of those intricate patterns for the desk.

"Don't you have places to go, people to see, hours to sleep?" Pratt asked.

"It's the best holiday of the year, Greg."

"Better you than me," he smirked. "I'll be spending my Halloween night far away from this place." Leslie shook her head and kept cutting.

"Yeah, I'm all for giving girls a reason to stick a pair of bunny ears on with a slinky dress and call it a costume, but this place'll turn you against party holidays pretty fast," Morris chimed in from his locker.

She arrived on Halloween brightly, toting two boxes, one filled with cookies, the other with orange and black rice crispie bars, as well as a plastic orange pumpkin heaping with candy. "Hey, Frank. Cookie?" The desk clerk eyed the baked goods with unusual caution, tentatively reaching for one and smelling it first before eating it.

"Oh, nothing against you, Doogie, we've just had our, well, _problems_ with doctors and their cookies," he said, deliberately looking at Neela.

"Oh, shove it. It was one lousy time," the surgeon protested in disgust. Leslie barely noticed the 'Doogie' thing anymore, choosing to see it as more of a friendly jab from Frank than needless abuse. The staff had sort of an acceptance of Dr. Thomas. She never really rocked the boat, and they never got in her way, but no one had really gotten to know her that well outside of County. Had she not outranked most of the people there, Neela doubted that anyone would have really cared to know her at all. She was nice enough, but there was always such a stiffness, an invisible wall about her. Ray said it probably had to do with mixing a high-society girl with common people, but Neela thought of Dr. Carter and wasn't so sure.

"Hey, I didn't know you were on tonight. Cookie?" she offered. Morris plucked one from the box and leaned slightly on the counter. He was wearing scrubs again, having come to appreciate their utility from Leslie, who was regularly clad in green.

"Yeah, well, I volunteered so that Kovac and Abby could take the little one out and about… though I'm pretty sure that Lockheart's going to be the one eating the candy. You know, keep hanging onto that 'baby weight' thing and milk that for one more year."

"Bite me, Morris," Abby replied flatly, hitting him with the clipboard.

He held up a pumpkin-shaped sugar cookie. "These are great, by the way. Much better than other people's," he called to Neela, earning a muttered 'bugger off' as she stalked off down the hall.

"Well, I put away the extras for you. They're at my place, if you want them," Leslie replied quietly, closing the box. "Maybe you can pick them up tomorrow. Pepper's welcome too, if he's going to worry about your being out too late," she teased. With that, Leslie sauntered off to the lounge.

Morris watched the door close behind her in absolute bliss. The week had been remarkably uneventful, considering how well last Friday had gone. They'd exchanged pleasant conversation, but for the most part, their schedules hadn't been cooperating again, and Morris was hesitant to call her, not wanting to sound so eager after fearing he'd come across as pushy by convincing her stay over. Now, he guessed he hadn't. For the next two days, both doctors would be off, which represented a golden opportunity to spend more time with her and perhaps find a way to give her that belated birthday gift.

It had been a silent agreement between them that their blossoming "friendship" wouldn't interfere with work. In fact, if nobody knew at work, that would be just fine with Leslie, who was trying to prove herself to be worthy of her rank. At first, it stung him that she'd avoided him a bit, but now he had accepted it. A secret was better than nothing at all, and it was actually sort of sexy when he thought about it.

* * *

"What's the story here, Ray?" Leslie asked, looking in at a hulking patient through a window.

"Ah, Mr. Brooks, 22, claims to have burnt his hands lighting a jack-o-lantern. Burning's inconsistent with the story. Smells like lighter fluid. Might be med seeking or related to vandalism, given the day. Waiting on a tox screen and background check."

Brooks saw them through the window. "Hey! Is someone gonna bandage these up or what? I got places to be." Ray reached over and closed the blinds.

"Might need a mild sedative to hold him over," she muttered, rubbing her temples. It seemed that Chuney had been right about Halloween. Ray smiled.

"You read my mind."

They walked over to another patient and were discussing the woman's chest pains and dizziness when they were aware of the yells getting louder. Brooks had made his way out to the desk area. Jerry was on the phone with security, and the two doctors rushed over to try to calm him down. It seemed, however, that he wasn't interested in conversation.

"I need something for the pain!" he screamed, giving Leslie a shove. For her small frame, that was all it took to send her sliding on her back.

"What's this guy on?" called Leslie from the floor.

"I was kind of hoping you could tell me," Ray grunted as he tried to wrestle the man back to the ground. In the time it took the man to throw Ray into the wall, Leslie had stood up and grabbed the pumpkin pail from the desk behind her. She marched up behind the man with a look of determination holding the pail by the handle and winding up.

"Shouldn't one of you help her?" Jane asked Jerry and Malik, who had made a move to help but stopped short. _Clunk! _Candy showered down around her as the man fell forwards next to Ray. "Whoa, never mind." Leslie took a syringe from her pocket and sedated the man.

The Attending helped Ray up and looked around her at the stunned faces. She shrugged. "Guess it was the pumpkin after all."

Leslie straightened up and dusted herself off, letting herself into the exam room where the lady with chest pain and her son were waiting. The boy looked to be around four years old and was dressed like a cowboy holding a Spider-man trick-or-treat pail that was noticeably empty. Leslie reached into one of her pockets and produced a piece of bubble gum and a sucker from the mess in the other room. She dropped them into the pail with a _plunk. _"That ought to get you started," she said with a smile.

When she mentioned keeping the woman overnight for observation, the woman shook her head quickly. "Oh no, it's Joey's first time trick-or-treating. I promised him. Can't we just go for a few hours, and I'll come right back after?" Leslie seated herself on a stool and rolled to the woman's side.

"I'm afraid not. We need to monitor your heart to track any irregularities…" she trailed off, looking at the scared face of the boy sitting in a chair beside her. "But that doesn't mean that Joey can't go trick-or-treating," she added with a smile.

Leslie approached the desk with Joey clutching her hand apprehensively. Jerry was still scooping the last of the candy from the floor and placing it back in the pumpkin pail, which now bore a large dent on one side. They stood before Morris expectantly. He looked back and forth between the two of them.

"Go on," she urged the boy, giving him a nudge.

"Twick-o-tweet," he said, sticking the pail up toward the red-headed man. Morris frowned for a second before digging into his pocket. He dropped a handful of change into the pail and patted the boy's head.

"Morris, they're trick-or-treating, not panhandling," Jerry said, pulling the pail down from the desk and dropping a handful of candy into the bucket.

"Oh, right," he said, fishing through his pockets again and producing three wint-o-green lifesavers mints.

"I need you to cover for me for a while," Leslie said, steering Joey toward the vending machine where Dubenko was counting his change.

"No problem," Morris called. He turned around to where Jerry was still staring at him. "What?"

"You're the guy that gives out the nickels, aren't you?"

* * *

After a shift filled with knife vs. hand pumpkin carving incidents, drunken teenagers, and sweets-induced belly aches, Leslie was glad to be collecting her things from the lounge.

"Hey, how'd the little guy do?" Ray asked, opening his locker.

"Oh, um a bunch of candy that I slipped to people from the pail, some candy bars and a ham sandwich from the vending machine, an apple from Crenshaw- surprise, surprise, just about one of every type of sugar cookie and cupcake from each department, coloring book from the paramedics, couple of granola bars, two jell-o cups from the cafeteria, and $7.24 in dollar bills and loose change."

Ray smiled and hung up his stethoscope. "Thanks for lending your heavy hitting to that case today. Turns out that a warehouse down the street caught fire at remarkably the same time as our jack-o-lantern victim came stumbling in blitzed out of his mind."

"A remarkable coincidence," she agreed sarcastically.

"Good night, Dr. Thomas," Ray called as Leslie tossed a bag over her shoulder.

"Happy Halloween," she replied. Morris was just on his way into the lounge, and he sped up when he saw Leslie.

"I heard about your run-in. Are you okay?" He looked genuinely concerned, which was sweet, but Leslie was just interested in getting home and into a hot shower.

"Run-in? It was nothing. I'm fine."

"You're sure?"

"Positive."

"Are you going to be all right taking the El- because I could drive you home or get you a cab?"

"I'll be fine," she assured him. "I think if nothing else, tonight proved to everyone that I can take care of myself. Woo, it got chilly tonight. Means fall's well under way. I love the colder weather, don't you?" she asked, walking out into the ambulance bay.

A look of pride swept over Morris's face. "Yeah, I do. I'm definitely a winter," he said casually.

"Me too," she replied, stepping out into the street. "Good night," she called with a smile, disappearing around the corner.

Morris pumped his fist, thinking about the box sitting on his coffee table at home. _She's a winter. Hope, you're amazing. This is so going to work._ Now, he only needed the right opportunity to present itself…

* * *

At precisely six o'clock, Leslie buzzed Archie inside. "No Pepper?"

"No, he's staying with an elderly couple that lives down the hall from me. They love keeping him, which works out with my hours and all. Are you cooking?" He sniffed and inhaled the rich aromas of Italian cuisine.

"I'm finally breaking in this kitchen. I'm making lasagna. I hope that's okay. You want a glass of wine?" Morris nodded absent-mindedly, taking everything in. It was a cute little place with an open floorplan and little balcony. More importantly, this provided him the opportunity to see Leslie fresh-faced and casually dressed. Today, she wore a pair of dark blue jeans and a three-quarter length baby blue off-the-shoulder shirt with a brighter blue shirt beneath it. Her feet were bare, so he followed suit and slipped off his shoes, laying them by the door.

"Do you need any help?"

"No, I think I'm okay," she replied with a sigh. He stood on the other side of the counter watching her chop vegetables for a salad. "You always make me feel underdressed," she admitted, blushing but not looking up. Morris looked at his typical uniform: slacks and a button-down.

"I swear I have jeans, you'll see. But anyway, you look great." They exchanged casual conversation as dinner baked and she tossed the salad. It was certainly a change of pace to be sitting down to a home-cooked meal. Morris's meals nearly always came from a bag or his freezer. He'd never been much of a cook, and neither had his girlfriends. Seeing her comfort in the kitchen only made him want her more. "So, what's the plan for tonight?"

"Well, I don't know. I thought maybe you'd want to watch the Blackhawks game with me, but-"

"As in hockey?"

"Yes, as in hockey," she giggled.

"Oh, how are you still single? Really, you're a beer-drinking, hockey-watching, attractive woman who cooks."

"Growing up with a brother, you just kind of learn to like what the boys like, I guess," she said, retrieving a bottle of Italian dressing from the refrigerator and pulling the bubbling lasagna from the oven.

They ate a nice dinner together, chatting about work and telling stories. He helped her load her dishwasher despite her arguments that he was a guest. Then, at 7:30, they settled in on the couch to watch the game. Morris was pleasantly surprised that she knew players' names and statistics and the rules of hockey. He'd known plenty of girls who had claimed to love sports as a way to attract men, but it seemed that Leslie just liked sports without agenda.

"So now that you're a permanent fixture in Chicago, I assume that you've done all the tourist-y things and seen all the sights."

"Like what?" she asked, rolling her head to the side as it rested against the couch cushions. He reached over and tangled his fingers with hers, playing with her left hand.

"Navy Pier, Shedd Aquarium, Lincoln Park, Sears Tower, art museum..."

"No, no, no, no, and…no," she admitted sheepishly. His eyes widened.

"This is worse than never having seen _Silence of the Lambs. _You know that, right?" She laughed. "Well, we have to remedy this…Stat!" he added, reaching over and kissing her neck. The ginger whiskers were rough against her skin, and the warmth of his breath on her skin made her break out in goosebumps.

"Now?" she asked incredulously. His lips had made their way to the base of her neck, but he stopped kissing to respond.

"Tomorrow. Pick one." The features of her face screwed in contemplation before dissolving into a grin when he tickled her collarbone.

"The aquarium. Hey," she cupped his face and forced him to look at her. "The aquarium," she repeated.

"The aquarium?" he asked in a deep, serious voice, mocking her and pressing his forehead to hers. "Where there's all those penguins and fish and bears? Oh my," he said, punctuating each animal with a kiss.

At the window, lightning flashed a brilliant white, followed by a rumble of thunder that shook the apartment, but neither seemed to care. After a few moments, the beginnings of a storm began to splatter the glass. By then, Archie had pulled Leslie onto his lap and was holding her close, petting her hair and completely absorbed in her.

"You shouldn't drive home in the rain," she breathed.

"No, I agree. Bad roads," he said out of the side of his mouth. "I should stay here." Inside of her head, Leslie was fighting a battle of wills. This had the potential to be trouble. She truly liked Archie, and she didn't think that it would be a good idea to go to that level of the relationship without, well, establishing that they even had a relationship. On the other hand, everything felt so good and so right. _Do something. This is going to cross the point of no return soon._ She sat up and smoothed her tousled hair. Archie looked at her in surprise. "Or I can come back," he said, searching her face for some sort of help on what to do.

"I want you to stay. I hate being here alone when I know that you could be here. But-"

"I get it," he replied, holding her cheek and stroking it carefully with his thumb. "It's okay. I can wait for you." _I can wait for you!? What has this girl done to you? But God, I think I really could wait for her. She's…special. Oh man, this sounds like an after school special. Is this about to get weird anyways?_

Leslie melted into a relieved smile, burying her face in his shoulder and inhaling the spice of his cologne. "Really?" Morris found himself nodding.

"I'm giving you the reigns. Ready?" He pantomimed bunching the air and handing it to her. With his hands clasping her fists from underneath, Morris kissed the tops. "Yours." Leslie broke her hands from his grasp and kissed him fiercely. There was something so magnetic and sexual about her kisses. Before, kisses had been merely a formality, foreplay leading up to the main event. The deeper she kissed him, the longer her hands explored him, the more this seemed very much like its own main event. _I could kiss you for hours. Can you hear this? I haven't kissed like this since I was a kid, like when Lisa Martin and I used to make out during Dad's work Christmas party in the coat room. _Those had been the kisses that lasted so long that he'd have to surface for air. Now, at over thirty years old, Archie felt himself reeling, reaching for air, and yet, reluctant to breathe. _If this is kissing, wow. How are you still single? How did he ever let you go? How did he ever settle for less than this, less than you? _

As she moved her mouth from his to his neck, he inhaled deeply, feeling his lips throb. "I need to tell you something," he found himself saying. _What? What do you need to tell her? _"I feel like I should tell you… I have kids," he blurted out quickly. _You have kids!? Why would you just say that? What would give you the idea that this is a good time to say that?_

Leslie sat up quickly, alarmed. "What?"

"Kids. Four of them." She opened her mouth but snapped it shut again, furrowing her brow. "When I was in college, I donated, uh, sperm, and these kids, they just came and found me one day. And I see them every now and then."

"Sperm?" she asked, her brain still sucking in oxygen and slowly processing this information. "So they're not your kids? Well, of course they are, but you didn't _have _them with someone? You didn't, uh, you didn't…?" Visions of one-night-stands and drunken hook-ups filled her head.

"No. I didn't even know." Leslie released the breath she'd been holding and felt relief wash over her. She punched him in the arm. "Ow," he said, grabbing his bicep.

"You creep!" she said, laughing. "I thought you meant- like with the visits on the weekends and child support and all that. I hate you," she growled playfully between gritted teeth and punched him again.

"I know." He threw up his hands to deflect another punch

"You know that I hate you?" she asked, poking him in the side and making him jump.

"Argh! Stop, that tickles! No! I mean, yeah! Argh! Okay, I deserve this." He was laughing uncontrollably from the tickling. "This is considered torture, you know. Stop, stop," Leslie removed her hands and sat staring at him while he caught his breath. A throw pillow came down on his face with a thump, reminiscent of that wallop she'd dealt the Halloween patient.

"Well, I will say this for you, Archie Morris. You are honest to a fault." She clasped her hands behind his head and brought his face forward to hers, touching noses with him.

"I think that's the first time anyone's called me that." His brown eyes locked with her green ones, and they sat in silence for a few moments. "I just...I know that you're investing in something with me, and I didn't want to keep something that big from you. I figured it'd be best just to lay it out on the table before you wasted any time. I have a lot of baggage, Leslie," he said quietly, his eyes lowering solemnly.

"But I'm still here," she reminded him, nudging his head so that his eyes lifted. "I don't scare that easy, Morris. You're gonna have to do better than that for the girl that had a five-year relationship with her teacher." It drew a smile from him again.

"This isn't normal. This doesn't happen on a second date." He flicked a finger between their bodies as he spoke, indicating the conversation that they were having.

"Archie, nothing about my life is normal. This is par for the course. Is it scaring you away? You can be totally honest here."

"No," he replied quickly. And he was sincere. He thought for sure that the sexual brush-off would have killed things. And the kids thing had just been suicide. But here she was, still perched on his lap, still touching him, still smiling. "But if I were to be totally honest, I don't think this feels like a second date. I feel like I know you better than that." _That might have been suicide move number two of the night._ If some girl started talking about feeling like she knew him, he would run for the hills and never look back.

"It's funny you say that," she said. "I've been here for almost two months, and you're the only person I ever talk to on a consistent basis. You're the only person I've really been out with, and I'm okay with that right now. So... are you staying over?" she asked.

"I'd like to," he answered. Leslie only bit her lip in response before kissing him gently.

_A/N: Soundtrack available on IMEEM. The link is listed in my profile._


	5. And Then The Morning Comes

_"Is it scaring you away?"_

The words rang through his head for what seemed to be the millionth time. The truth was that there was a long list of things about Leslie that scared him. His eyelids parted to gaze at a cream ceiling with a single hair-like crack running about two feet into the room. By turning his head, he could just begin to see an out-of-focus caramel-colored blur below his chin that was her head.

In the night, he'd felt her stealing the blankets and burrowing down into them. She'd warned him that she liked to do this on cold nights, but it was still a surprise when he'd felt the covers pulled from his legs. "Just give me a shove and take them back," she'd instructed him in the event that she was "a blanket hog." Instead, he'd moved closer to her, and Leslie had turned over into his side, resting her head in the crook of his arm. Carefully, he'd pulled the covers around the two of them and held her.

It was pleasant to find her still sleeping and not necessarily inconvenient that he was trapped by her body for however long it took her to move or wake up. This presented him time to appreciate her apartment, or at least her bedroom. It was done in jewel tones, rich burgundy and emerald and gold and deep sapphire blue with darkly stained wooden furniture. While he considered his own bed to be a little piece of heaven on earth, her bed took that to a new level. In place of worn flannel in the comforter and jersey-knit sheets, there was a silky-textured comforter and thick sleek sheets. It felt very crisp and clean and new, and it smelled like more like a bed of roses than a bed of linens. _I could wake up here a million more times and not get sick of it. _The walls bore brown-toned framed photographs and canvases, as well as her diplomas and several smaller photos of her in cap and gown. Beside him, there was a bedside table bearing a stack of books from the _New York Times Bestseller List_, none of which he'd read.

Leslie's head shifted, drawing his attention back to her. He couldn't see it, but she'd awoken serenely, recognizing his undershirt and warm body immediately. It was late by her standards, but she could have stayed there all day. She lifted the arm that had been draped over his body, dragging it over his stomach to rub her eyes. When the last of the sleep had been cleared, she blinked and looked up at him.

It had been a few more hours after the sleeping over conversation before they'd wound up here. Mostly, it had been a long talk about his children. Though that was still somewhat strange to her, his obvious involvement in their lives was nice, if not a little bizarre. Leslie liked to be the listener instead of the talker. For as long as she could remember, she'd been the talker. She was always talking to reporters, professors, admissions officers, skeptical hospital administrators, potential voters for her fathers' various campaigns. It was good to listen to another voice, and Archie's was particularly appealing. It could have been the wine, but the previous night, she had felt a warmth, a fuzzy closeness when he talked about himself. At work, he could be mildly off-putting, but that wasn't him. Not really. She had only to think of that first night at the bar to know that he was not the smug, rude persona that he put forth for others.

"Did I put your arm to sleep?" she asked. He shook his head gently, gazing at her with softness in his eyes. "Do you want the shower first?"

"Do you want to snooze for a few more minutes?" She closed her eyes and grinned, nodding sleepily. He kissed her head and freed himself, sitting on the edge of the bed for a minute.

"I have extra toiletries in the cabinet if you want anything. Help yourself," she mumbled from the pillow. Curiously, he opened her cabinet. There was a basket with packaged toothbrushes and mouthwash, deodorant and shaving cream, loofahs and a liquid bodywash in a gender-neutral fragrance, contact solution and cases, brushes and combs. They were all still sealed and new, waiting for a visitor. _Maybe her brother, maybe her father, maybe that Nick guy. Maybe you. _There was something sad and lonely about the unused visitor basket. He peeled back the plastic from a toothbrush and retrieved a towel and soap as well. When he was finished, he held the wet toothbrush in his hand and looked at the cup that held hers at the side of the sink. There was something strangely final and symbolic about placing his toothbrush next to hers, so he laid it beside the cup and turned on the water in the shower to heat up.

It looked to be a chilly morning, and Morris hesitated to go to his car for his overnight bag. When he'd mentioned it the night before, Leslie had eyed him suspiciously and asked if he did this sort of thing a lot. "_No, I keep it for the times I get stuck on doubles at County." _It had been halfway true; the bag had proven useful for those situations. It had really been more of a wishful thinking measure when it came to women.

Meanwhile, still wearing short striped bottoms and a pink long-sleeve t-shirt that nearly hit even with the legs of the shorts, Leslie had pulled herself from the bed and begun to make it, fluffing the pillows and spraying the sheets with linen refresher. As she bent over and leaned across the bed, the shorts rose slightly in the back to reveal the lace of boyshorts and the lower curve of her bottom. _Oh man. Stop looking. _It was difficult to pull his eyes away from those legs, and it was even more of a challenge to stop picturing her minus the striped shorts. _About that whole "waiting" thing... you dug yourself a great big hole with that one._

* * *

Leslie watched Morris pull away from the curb from her window. A glimmer of something on the table caught her eye, and she approached curiously. He must have sneaked this in with his bag this morning and placed it on the table just before leaving this evening. It really was beautiful with its silver paper and white ribbon- definitely a store's wrap job. The card was a small embossed 3x5 that read simply: "Better late than never. Open them in order. No cheating. Happy belated birthday, Archie." _In order? _But there was only one… This increased her curiosity further, and she hungrily untied the bow and tore away the paper. Inside the box was a beautiful hand-carved wooden trinket box in a rich dark stain. Leslie ran a finger across the design, admiring the gift. It had a sweet wooden smell to it. She lifted the lid and was surprised to see two more boxes inside, resting on the velvet liner. One was a flat square box wrapped in gold paper with a red ribbon tied around it and a small envelope clearly marked "Thanksgiving." The other was flat as well, but it was much more rectangular and a bit smaller. Its card read "Christmas."

Leslie bit her lip, wondering if she would be able to play along for the next two months. She'd never been much for waiting, but it was such a nice gesture… _No one's ever done anything like this. _Well, if she wanted to make this work the way that Archie had planned, she would need to strategically place the box so that they wouldn't taunt her every moment she was home. Leslie placed the box on her dresser, stepping back to look at it.

_I dated Gordy for years, and I don't think he ever did anything like this. Wait, am I dating Archie? Well, he wouldn't do this for just a friend, right? _Her hands flew to the phone to dial a familiar number. "Jase? Remember that guy I told you about? Yeah, the one from the roof…"

* * *

"Okay, Daddy, I-" Leslie paused yet again as her father kept lecturing her on the importance of her coming to Washington for Christmas. It was not quite Thanksgiving, and already, the badgering had begun. "Well, it's a busy time here, too, Dad. Yes- Dad I _know_." The welcome sound of her low battery signal interrupted her attempted…well, interruptions.

As a reelected U.S. Representative for the state of Iowa, Mr. Thomas had been invited to numerous holiday events, and he'd been hoping that his daughter, poster child for education and health care initiatives, would be willing to accompany his wife and son to a few of the photo ops. Leslie, however, understood her responsibilities as an Attending Physician. In fact, she had jumped at the opportunity to avoid all of that political hullabaloo and swarming press.

He just kept talking. Rolling her eyes, she looked sideways at Neela, who was tapping away at an electronic poker game. Neela shot her a sympathetic look, knowing the trouble of parents all too well. After spending an excruciating night shift as the only Attending in the ER, Leslie was looking forward to collapsing at her place, where Morris had agreed to meet her with bagels and fresh coffee. The thought was pushed aside by the flickering of the lights on the train. It seemed like the train was moving slower than usual, but that was probably just due to the agonizing conversation she was having. The phone's battery threatened with more beeps.

"Daddy, I have to let you go. Okay? Dad, we can talk ab-" but her phone did the work for her. He would be angry, but Leslie was glad for the reinstatement of peace. She leaned into the wall just as the train lurched, causing her to bump her head on the corner of the doorway. Neela tumbled over top of her, her fall mostly broken by Leslie. As Leslie reached up to touch her head, the train jerked again, and several more passengers fell. Now, the lights flickered to black as the train stopped abruptly.

A bit of blood was coming from the gash on her forehead, but otherwise, Leslie was fine. Collecting herself, she craned to see out the window and saw that they were nowhere near a stop, stranded on the track. An announcement was made that the train was experiencing a power glitch and would hopefully be operational again soon. "What do you think that was about?" Neela asked, stuffing her bag under a nearby seat so that it wouldn't be stepped on. "Oh! You're bleeding. Are you all right?"

"Fine," she replied, pulling her stocking cap back down snugly over her head to stop the seeping.

The train was absolutely packed with morning commuters, but no one seemed to be very hurt, so neither decided to advertise that she was a doctor, instead sliding down the wall to sit together. Both were extremely tired, so conversation was limited. For some time, there was a buzz of people calling in to work angrily explaining their plight, and then, they heard it. "That can't be a train," Neela said, a hint of nervousness in her voice. It had actually come out as more of a question.

"I'm sure it's on the other tracks." The response had come out equally tentative and unsettling.

"Right, I mean, they know we're here. Yeah?" They exchanged a look that was intended to be reassuring, but the concern was evident.

The sound of metal squealing and some screaming from the car behind them, however, took Leslie to her feet. Neela tried to follow, but she stopped upon hearing the sound. There was a hard metal bang, followed by a jolt that sent everyone flying forward.

For several seconds, silence flooded Leslie's mind. _I'm dead. _She was aware of the screaming around her, though, and opened her eyes tentatively to find a mass of twisted seats people, and belongings all around. Feeling a bit shaken, but remarkably not in pain, Leslie took a deep breath and looked for Neela. The surgeon was just a few feet away and was pawing her way up the wall to stand and regain balance. They gave a brief nod to tell the other that she was all right and each called out, "I'm a doctor! Does anyone need help? I'm a doctor!" There were some groans, and passengers were beginning to collect themselves.

All around Neela, there were people with minor scrapes and cuts. Possibly some minor fractures. Though the scene was relatively calm, she was glad to be here with another person, even if that person was virtually a stranger. In fact, Neela was just beginning to feel that she'd been very lucky when an urgent cry came out near the back of the car.

"Here! She's pregnant! Doctor!" Leslie climbed over a seat to a very pregnant woman on the floor, and Neela followed close behind.

"Ma'am, how many weeks are you?"

"Thirty-four. Ah, ow! Oh God. Is it coming? I think I'm having contractions. My little girl- ow, she came fast. I had her in the car. Is it coming? It's not time!" The woman was hysterical.

"Are you sure you're a doctor? You look-" The young woman who had flagged Leslie was now looking at her skeptically in the jeans, thermal top, and down jacket she was wearing. The young attending pursed her lips and took a deep breath.

"Yes, I'm a doctor. My name is Dr. Thomas."

"Anita," the woman grunted.

"Mary," the teenager beside her said. "I'm her sister."

"Neela- Dr. Rasgotra."

"I'm going to take a look, okay?" Leslie spread the woman's Ugg boots apart and immediately saw that her water had broken. _Damn. Of all places. Of all times. _She looked as though she was progressing rapidly, and the contractions were hitting quickly. "Neela, do you want to call County?"

"Can't. My bag and phone are somewhere under that," she replied, gesturing at a pile of tangled seats. As she looked, she could see a young man unconscious and somewhat covered by the mess, so she excused herself to tend to him. Leslie nodded and looked at all the people standing behind her, staring intently.

"All right, I need someone to dial County General for me. Has someone dialed 911? Anita, I need you to breathe, okay? You and your baby are fine, but I need you to stay calm, okay?"

Another voice raised up over the mumbles of the crowd. "I think he's having a heart attack! Someone help!" The passengers cleared a path to a middle-aged man in a business suit collapsed on the ground. Leaving Anita with her sister, Leslie rose to her feet and hurried over to his side.

She crouched beside the man and opened his shirt. The whole thing was starting to make her feel a bit lightheaded, but she pushed the feeling aside for a moment and took a deep breath.

* * *

_Where is she? _Morris had been let inside by Nick, of all people, in an awkward exchange that had culminated in the doctor mumbling something about going to work together. Now, he sat on the steps with rapidly cooling coffee and a sack of bagels. He'd tried her cell, but it seemed to be turned off. That had led to his calling County, where Jerry had told him that Leslie had left on time with Kovac's arrival. Now, he was worried. Though it was light outside, she would be tired and vulnerable.

She was more than an hour late, and in the short time he'd known her, she had always been punctual. Below him, the door swung open and Nick strode inside again. He stopped short, seeing Morris waiting. "Were you guys stuck with the whole El thing this morning? Cabs are pretty far between, I think."

"El thing?" he asked.

"Yeah, dude, one of the trains lost power, and another one hit it. Really backed up the commute. Why? What's the hold-up for you guys? Hey, maybe you should go there. I think they might need doctors, you know?" Morris stopped listening and ran outside, leaving the coffee and bagels. He got into his car and entered traffic, frantically trying Leslie's number again and again.

Calling County did him no better, as Jerry only knew that Leslie wasn't responding to pages. He had to keep reminding himself that he wasn't supposed to seem that interested in her at work. No one was supposed to know about them, but he found himself falling apart with worry as minutes ticked by in traffic.

_You should have picked her up. She said not to, but then she would be safe at home, probably curled up next to you watching TiVo from last night. You should have just been there. She shouldn't be riding on the train, especially not alone. _In his palms and the soles of his feet, a tingling, clammy sensation was setting in. Ambulances and fire trucks sped through the intersection before him. _Breathe. _

* * *

The paramedics were a welcome sight, but Leslie questioned whether they would get up to them and inside the car in time as Anita approached full dilation. "Don't push, honey. I know it hurts. Just hang on," she called, continuing compressions on the heart attack victim, who was in full cardiac arrest. _What I wouldn't give for a defibrillator._ Neela was struggling to bring the man at her hands back to a conscious state herself.

"I don't think it can wait!" a nervous voice called. "It's coming!" Neela shot Leslie a look of desperation.

"I need to push!"

"I can't leave him," the surgeon called to her. Leslie couldn't stop her compressions, so she instructed Mary to get into position to deliver.

"It's all right!" Leslie yelled as she bobbed up and down, fueled entirely by her adrenaline. Neither Mary nor Neela could tell who the reply was meant for. She took a deep breath and began instructing the girl, who looked to be no older than fifteen, on how to deliver the baby. Anita let loose a fierce, pained wail, and several bystanders began to look extraordinarily worried. A few older women were praying at her side, and one was dabbing her head with a handkerchief.

"Uh, this doesn't look right!" the teen called.

"Mary, I need you to relax and-"

"I think these are feet," she stammered. Neela's head shot back up. _Breech. Damn._

Before either woman could make a move to decide who would abandon their patient, a loud noise to one side cut through the frenzy as the side doors were pried open. "We got a call that there were emergencies in this car," an EMT said from behind Leslie. The extra hands and supplies put Leslie a bit more at ease, but the fact that her heart attack victim was unresponsive, Neela's victim still had not regained consciousness, and a preterm breech baby was on its way made it difficult to feel much better about the situation. She began to brief them, still working. "Doc, you're bleeding," he said, carefully removing her from her position.

"It's just a minor l-"

"No, it looks pretty deep to me," Neela added. Leslie raised her hand to her head and felt very damp hair sticking together against her face. Daring to look at the shoulder of her coat, where she'd been wiping what she'd thought to be sweat from her brow while she performed chest compressions, Leslie saw a deep crimson smear.

"Doc, I think you might have a concussion. You need to sit down," the EMT instructed, leaning her against the wall.

Her hand was red with blood. She guessed that maybe her stocking cap had slowed the bleeding, but it must be saturated now. "I'm fine. I just need a bandage or a couple stitches. How are the people in the other cars and train? Are they- ouch- are they okay?"

"You need to let us help," another paramedic said, shining a light into her eyes. "You've done okay, Doc. We'll take it from here." Leslie allowed them to take over, and as they were helping her down, the sound of newborn cries broke the cold morning air.

* * *

"Morris, I told you, we're getting a lot of people from the accident. Wait," Jerry said, pausing. There was a rough noise as the desk clerk placed a hand over the phone, but Morris could still hear him asking, "Is that Dr. Thomas?" _Oh God. _A metallic taste filled his mouth as his stomach seemed to plummet to his toes.

He was nearing County, quickly pulling into the ambulance bay and running inside. The whole place was spinning around him, and his gaze darted from one face to another. "Morris, I thought you weren't on until tonight," Abby greeted him from the hallway. "Were you paged?" she asked. He pushed past her without a word to the trauma rooms, turning aside for a moment to take a deep breath and prepare himself for the worst. Inside, however, was a middle-man in cardiac arrest. The next room held a teenage boy. Moving swiftly down the hall to sutures, he saw her slight frame seated on a chair and staring into a mirror. Archie breathed a sigh of relief and pushed through the doors, pulling her into a tight embrace.

"Ah-ow! Geez, Archie! What are you doing? I'm okay!" She gave him a shove, holding a pad to the gash. "I should have saved that guy," she murmured, shaking her head and staring through the window as Kovac called her heart attack victim.

"I was worried, Leslie." Her head turned to stare at him. He looked so angry, so upset. "You didn't call. I couldn't get you. Can't you be a little bit happy to see me, huh?"

Leslie's hand fell from her forehead as she continued to stare at him. At the sight of the cut, Morris immediately lifted a new compress to it and started to open a tray for sutures. Still, her eyes had not strayed from him. It was the first time in a long time that someone was solely focused on Leslie the Human Being and not Dr. Thomas the Professional. It was the first time that he'd truly shown how he felt for her."Say it again," she breathed.

Morris stopped what he was doing, looking into her eyes to check for a concussion or other head trauma. "Jesus, Leslie. What happened out there?" _She's not making sense. What's the matter with her? _When she motioned for him to repeat what he'd said, Morris rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. "I was really worried." At his utterance of those words, she felt her heart beat faster; her head once more felt light. A single tear streamed down her cheek, but the young woman's face was unmoving. Morris stared at the tear and wondered if she was in pain. Before he could ask, Leslie grabbed him and kissed him. He had not moved his hand from her forehead, and when she opened her eyes, she saw that his were open wide.

"I can't remember the last time that anyone worried about _me_ and not about their career or their poll numbers or their reputation," she stammered, wiping at the tear only to have another fall down the other cheek. Archie's features softened, and he rubbed her shoulders affectionately.

"I'm just glad you're all right." He'd been so angry. No, not _angry. _Upset. Upset at the thought of something happening to her, of someone hurting her, of losing her. He understood what it was like for people that came in here with loved ones' lives hanging in the balance. It was a horrible feeling to be helpless and terrified. It was at the same time the most selfish of feelings and the most selfless, that internal plea for life and the sparing of suffering. On the drive to the ER, he'd been upset that he couldn't remember the last thing he'd said to her. He'd been upset that she hadn't used her first safe moment to call him. He'd been emotional, and that was something that he rarely was. Most of all, he'd been surprised by his reaction to it all and intimidated by his own weakness for her.

Now, the long gash from her eyebrow to her hairline once again caught his attention as the blood began to seep through the pad pressed against it. "I'm pretty good at this. I promise I won't leave a scar." Archie numbed the area carefully and began to stitch the gash. All the while, her gaze was firmly planted on him and burned him as he worked. After eighteen stitches, Morris tied off his work and carefully placed a clean bandage over it. He was still sitting inches from her, used gloves still bunched in his hand.

Neela burst through the doors without looking. "Leslie, Anita wa- oh, Morris. I thought you weren't on until later," she stumbled awkwardly. "Um, well, she's asking to see you. Glad you're all right," she added. Leslie nodded, and Neela stared for a moment longer before showing herself out again and stealing one last look at the two of them.

He looked at his hands, twisting the gloves awkwardly. "I think they might be starting to suspect something now."

"I don't care." It had come automatically and clearly.

"Did they completely rule out the head injury?" he asked. They'd been keeping things so casual, so inconspicuous until today. She laughed, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling over her body and the relief of knowing that she would not have to be alone. "Come on. I'll take you home. Just don't bleed on my Beemer, okay?"

_A/N: Soundtrack on IMEEM. Link available in my profile._


	6. Pratt's Favor

_A/N: Hello to all! I've prepared not one, not even two, but three chapters for (hopefully) your enjoyment. So throw me a review on any or all if you get a chance. You also may have noticed a summary change. The story itself is not changing, but the content may get a little more mature in up-coming chapters, and also, this chapter begins the smidge of Reela that I mentioned. So anyway, glad you're here and thanks for stopping by again! _

Standing before a huge wall of glass was a class of young children in matching Catholic school uniforms. They "ooh"ed and "ah"ed as a beluga whale swam by, seemingly smiling at them all. The two doctors stood back, holding hands and watching them tapping on the glass and filling out worksheets.

"Makes me feel like I'm playing hooky- not that I would ever have known what that was like," he added, not looking at her. She shot him a knowing smirk.

Ray had never been one for cheesy dates to the zoo- or in this case, the aquarium, but the idea had come to mind when he'd heard Morris talking about how he'd spent his day off at the aquarium with some "hot chick" who'd just totally "gone gooey" over the whole thing. As it was, he and Neela had been on only few actual daytime outings, so he thought he would try it.

Lately, he wasn't sure what to think about the two of them. After the Gates thing had washed over, they had reconnected, and they decided to go back to the comfortable roommate arrangement again. They had shared moments; they'd even wound up in bed once or twice, but they'd never discussed exactly what they were or placed any definition on it.

He cleared his throat. "We should go if we want to watch them feed the penguins." They followed the children into the next room, again standing near the back to look over the kids' heads at the exhibit. Feeling particularly bold, he decided to test the waters, adding, "They're monogamous, you know? Penguins."

"Really?" she replied, but somehow, he thought she probably already knew that. She gazed into the display for a moment, eying the waddling birds with a thoughtful look about her. Neela decided to play the game with him. "I think it would be nice to be someone's penguin."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah. Actually, I was thinking that I might already be one," she said coyly, blushing. She finally turned her face to look at him, flashing a smile before kissing his cheek.

"Gross," came a voice a few feet away, where two little boys were staring at them in rumpled navy jackets and striped ties.

"Watch the penguins, kid," Ray retorted, leaning over to kiss Neela back.

* * *

"And then, the kid's mother comes into the room, screaming at me about- mph, that's really good." Morris leaned forward to kiss a small spot of chocolate from the corner of her mouth before settling back into his spot and taking a bite of the Ben & Jerry's Brownie Batter ice cream. "I could be one of those twig girls too if my job didn't have me eating comfort food almost every night of the week. This is like, our second 'ice cream and bitch date' in as many weeks."

"I don't mind," he replied, placing another spoonful in front of her. _You are officially a woman. Look at you in your sweats on your couch eating ice cream from the carton and commiserating about work. Ugh. _Despite the thoughts of sacrificing what manhood he had possessed before Leslie, a stupid look of sympathy was smeared across his face. It had been almost three months since he'd met her, and still, he hadn't come close to bedding her. It was still on his mind, but it wasn't quite as urgent as it had been before.

"I did something stupid today in a moment of weakness," she said, looking as though she felt guilty about something. "Days like today when nobody gets behind me and the place is relentless make me start thinking."

"Yeah…" he urged her, sitting up with a bit more concern.

"I heard there might be an opening next fall at a university back at home. A faculty spot for medicine. I'm not really qualified, but a friend of mine on faculty told me to apply… so I did. It's a really big long-shot. I don't know, though. It was an impulse," she whined, looking at his stunned face.

"So you wouldn't take it?"

"I don't think so. I don't think I'm ready for it. I just did it because I hate my job. No one takes me seriously."

"They just don't know you. We've all worked together forever. New people come, and it just takes a while for them to get used to the way we work. I've been there almost five years and still, no one takes me seriously."

"It's not like I'm going to get it anyways. There's a thousand more qualified people fed up with their jobs itching to get into lecturing and research." Silence fell over the room as he considered this. _It's just a stupid, impulsive thing. It's like wanting to quit your job after a bad day. Like that time you threw your labcoat and stormed out. You came crawling back the next day. Or that pharmaceutical gig. That's all this is. _Nevertheless, the thought of her packing up and leaving was unsettling. He had to change the subject.

"What are your Christmas plans?" he asked, scraping the inside of the carton for the last bite of ice cream.

"Working Christmas day. You?"

"No, you gotta get out of it. You have to come to my dad's house. I promised him that I would come home this year, and the last time I came home alone, he accused me of being gay. Come on, you'll have some expensive wine, nice dinner, look cute in pictures. What do you say?" He gave her ribs a nudge.

"Um, I specifically asked to work Christmas so that I could get out of spending time with my family and that drama. I don't think I want to finagle time off on a holiday to end up smack in the midst of strangers' drama. No amount of wine and goose is going to make that sound like a fair deal," she laughed, smacking him with a throw pillow.

Inside, Leslie was panicking. She'd purposefully mentioned the story about that job so that she could get some sort of disappointed reaction from him… any indication that he hated the thought of her leaving. While he'd been decidedly interested in the story and had tried to comfort her feelings about the ER dynamic, he hadn't appeared as distraught about it as she would have thought or liked.

In fact, in the time that they had been casually seeing one another, there'd been no mention of the boyfriend-girlfriend title. It had been the thing holding her back the most from initiating a more physical relationship. While they frequently spent the night at one another's apartments, they still arrived at work separately and rarely interacted beyond cases and traumas. Leslie suspected that he was a commitment-phobe with a wandering eye. He was still a bit too eager to take cases involving female patients, and he still made the occasional comment about other women. Maybe it was a cover-up for their relationship, but the whole thing was confusing.

Now, he was asking her to his dad's house for Christmas, a huge step, but it sounded more like a business deal than a request for her company or to show her off. It sounded like a way to avoid confrontation more than anything. Sometimes, she wished that the neatly-wrapped box on her dresser contained a definitive commitment, rather than… well, _whatever _he'd bought her. That was another thing… those gifts. He obviously meant for them to still be working towards whatever it was that they were working towards at Christmastime. The hope for a relationship of some kind had been there. She just wished that he would be more proactive in determining the definition of that relationship. Shaking the worry, she stood and ambled into his kitchen.

"You can't possibly still be hungry," he groaned, placing the empty carton on the coffee table and stretching.

Morris, on the other hand, was internally panicking at the idea of her rejecting him. He'd kept things so seemingly casual in hopes that he wouldn't look desperate or like he was coming on too strong. Asking her to the house had been huge, and he purposely took the focus away from its gravity. Nothing would sting like the rejection of someone so much younger, especially someone in whom he felt he'd invested so much. The previous night, he had woken up in a cold sweat with the realization that he was in love with her. It had been so much easier to be self-centered and independent. Now, the thought of being those things again seemed painful. He wanted her there with him at that dinner table on the Twenty-fifth.

Archie had never had feelings so deep or so fast. Sure, he'd liked girls; they were like a hobby. And there were a few who had liked him at one point or another. But Leslie… He found himself wondering silly things about her, or offering to do things like watch chickflicks. He couldn't think of a single thing about her that annoyed him. He loved her ridiculous pop song phone ringers. He loved the way she changed clothes four or five times before deciding on an outfit. He loved the way she would look over her shoulder and smile at him when she knew he was watching her. He loved that every time he turned on her television, it was on the same channel they'd left it… because she spent little of her free time without him. That growing pile of his things at her place and hers at his. The way that she'd hung the glass snowflake on her bedroom window so that it would be the first thing she saw each morning…

"Oh! You've been shopping!" she squealed from where she stood at the pantry. "And you actually bought snacks!" Leslie was a junk food addict; her cupboards were always overflowing with Cheetos and Oreos and Captain Crunch and Pringles, among others. He couldn't help himself; he'd set aside a special shelf for her that he'd stocked with all the things he knew she liked.

"If it keeps you coming back to my place, I'll buy all the carbs and sugar you can eat," he called from the couch. "You haven't seen anything yet. Wait 'til I find out what it takes to get you in bed." Her jaw dropped and she grinned in surprise.

"Well, it's going to take more than barbecue Lays and a box of Ho-Hos!" She smacked his shoulder and threw herself into his lap, kissing him.

"I should have sprung for the Doritos too," he mumbled behind a smile and shallow kisses.

* * *

"I think Leslie and Morris are sleeping together," Neela blurted out suddenly into the silence of the bedroom. There was rustling beside her, and the lamp flicked on. A yellow glow drenched the room, casting shadows across a cluttered, cramped bedroom.

"What?" Ray asked, flopping back down and rubbing his eyes at the light.

"He came to the hospital for her that day last week. He was sitting with her after everything."

"Maybe he was paged." Ray liked the idea of being woken up in the middle of the night…usually. But if it was just to speculate about the goings-on of coworkers, particularly those as unsavory as Archie Morris, Ray would rather just pass.

"No, Kovac said he didn't page anyone in." She turned her head on the pillow to look at him, black hair falling around her face and laying in stark contrast to the light blue pillowcase.

"But he's so…" A million thoughts washed through his mind. Morris throwing up at the party. Morris shirking responsibility. Morris and his two extra nipples. Morris and his creepy bond with his kids.

"Daft?" she sputtered. Ray chuckled and reached out to pat her leg, gently dragging a finger from her thigh to her knee. "She hasn't gotten to know anyone here, and she winds up in bed with bumbling, incompetent Morris. You know, that day on the train, I wanted to get to know her. Those sorts of things, those accidents, they're supposed to create a bond between people, but it's like she's just operating in a different world from us. I mean, what do we know about her? She skipped some grades. Seems pretty smart and capable. Her dad's, what, like a governor or Congressman or something?"

"Why do you care?" he laughed. Ray was hoping that he could shift the course of this interruption of his sleep to something a little more appealing.

"Because she's the one in there helping to run the place! Morris! Of all people, she gets cozy with Morris."

"Well, in her defense, we don't _know_ that. Besides, when have you tried made the effort to be friendly outside of the patients and traumas? Up-ba-ba-ba," he cut off her attempted interjection. "Other than riding the train home with her? If nothing else, it would let you find out the truth about this little 'affair of the Attendings.'"

"Why are you defending her?" Neela asked, cocking her head and raising an eyebrow. Now, he saw his chance. He shrugged, casually gazing around the room.

"Well, if anybody's going to pass judgment on people based on their unprofessional relationships," he said, locking eyes again and snuggling closer to kiss her shoulder, "you and I should probably be somewhere near the bottom of the list. They're not so different from us, are they?"

"The pothead and the gifted kid?" she asked. His hand pulled her close, bringing a smile to her lips as he leaned in to kiss her. "We'll see," Neela whispered, as she covered his mouth with hers.

* * *

Morris was just checking out of work on the morning of Christmas Eve when the sight of Greg Pratt storming in the doors caught his attention… particularly because Leslie had agreed to take Pratt's shifts so that he could spend the holidays with his girlfriend.

"Pratt, hey man. What are you doing here?"

"Avoiding a woman."

"But I thought that things were cool with her? I thought that you guys were going away for a few days?" Pratt's girlfriend had invited him to a beach house in Miami for the holidays, and Morris had been jealous of the idea of being alone on a beach with a beautiful woman when he'd heard. He'd been even more jealous when he found out that it was made possible by Leslie's agreeing to pick up extra shifts.

"Yeah, well, she failed to mention that the beach house would be loaded with relatives from all over the damn place. Morris, man, I am not ready to meet Cousin Frankie and her three kids." Pratt almost seemed to be running to the locker room. "Where's Leslie? The only way I could get out of it was to say that one of the other Attendings' fathers was sick, and I had to cover shifts."

"You're voluntarily picking up shifts at Christmas? Must be a pretty serious family thing." Pratt rolled his eyes and nodded, heading down the hallway. "So you're, uh, going to take all her shifts?"

"Yeah, why Morris? I thought you got yours covered." _Shit. He knows._

"Oh yeah, I just- I think it sucks is all. Every single time I need a day off, where are you, man?" he nervously covered as the door to the lockers swung closed before him. Morris hung back and watched Pratt talking to Leslie through the window. He couldn't hear the words, but he could follow the facial expressions enough to know that Leslie was utterly shocked and now realizing that she now had no excuse not to go to the Morris House for the holidays.

_A/N: Soundtrack on IMEEM. Link available in my profile._


	7. Nightmare Before Christmas

_A/N: Again, lots of new material. I struggled a little with this because it is taking so many liberties with Morris's background. Unfortunately, all we know from ER is that "Mama Morris" is dead, according to Morris himself and that he doesn't get along with "the old man." So, this sort of explores that a little and delves into why Morris hides behind sarcasm so much. I always thought of Morris as a very lonely person beneath a cocky fascade. There were glimpses of his ability to stand up for himself and others when he yelled at Crenshaw during season 13 in Hope's defense, but it seemed like something that the mostly passive Dr. Morris was not very comfortable doing. Anyhow, I incorporated those ideas and tried to stay as true to character as possible. It's a loooong chapter. Hope you like it. _

After a whirlwind packing session, Leslie found herself in the heated passenger's seat of Archie's car staring at bare trees off the highway as they whizzed by. She was still reeling from the turn of events that had placed Pratt in the overworked Attending slot and her in the clear at the holidays. It was the better option to spend her free days with Archie rather than meeting lobbyists and other government personnel at the various events and mixers; it allowed her to once again skirt relationship questions and avoid uncomfortable introductions to stuffy sons of equally stuffy colleagues of her father. Nevertheless, Leslie was still a bit unsure about the whole 'Papa Morris' issue. Archie had spoken little about his family, other than to say that he didn't really get along with his father, his mother died when he was young, and that he was an only child. The more she thought of it, the hotter the stupid car seemed and the more she fidgeted, tugging at her coat's zipper and tracing the wrinkles of leather on her purse.

"Do you mind if I turn on your radio? I need something to stay awake." He'd barely replied before she began fiddling with the stations, finally settling on an 80's and 90's pop station. "I'm a sucker for catchy bubblegum," she said, bobbing her head.

"Well, in that case..." he said, leaning forward to turn it up. She shot an appreciative look at him but was surprised to hear him singing with the radiio, and he wasn't half bad! The whole thing took her mind off of the destination until he exited the Interstate seven songs later.

The Morris home was in a nice neighborhood in a mid-sized town. All around, there were spacious lots blanketed with a thick layer of snow. The sky was marked with a series of smoky clouds rising from various chimneys. It was the sort of classic and picturesque scene that she'd seen on boxed Christmas cards- large red brick homes with a bushy wreath on white doors, porch railings decorated with holly and white lights, twinkling bushes and icicle lights. It was not unlike the minimally-used home that her own family held in Iowa.

In the window, a woman who looked to be just a bit older than Leslie peeked out from behind a curtain. "I thought you didn't have brothers or sisters," Leslie said, nodding in the direction of the window. Archie took a deep breath.

"Oh, I don't. That's Brenda… my future _stepmom_." Leslie thought she saw him shudder at the word. "It's a really sweet story," he added with scathing sarcasm.

"It's all right; you don't-" But he had already launched into the story bitterly.

"Yeah, I was actually sort of moving in on her. She worked in sales for an office furniture firm that was redoing some stuff at County. Thought I would tell her that my old man's law firm was in the market for some new desks and all and maybe take her out to dinner. Well, Dad got more than furniture from her, you know?" He shook his head and took a deep breath.

Pepper took this moment to lurch forward from the backseat and bark loudly before lapping at Leslie's cheek. "Let's not keep them waiting," she said with a brave smile.

As they walked up the shoveled path, Archie could feel his stomach churning and couldn't help but think that this had all been one giant mistake. His relationship with 'dear old Dad' was a volatile one that usually ended each reunion they'd had in either Archie drowning himself in booze or a thick, sweet cloud, or with ringing ears and nail marks in his palms where he'd clinched tight fists while enduring his dad's yells. Things were going so well with Leslie; it seemed like yet another crazy move to bring her here. Then again, it was coming up on a year since he'd seen the old bastard, and it was important to keep those ties with such a grand opportunity for inheritance, should the old man finally bite it. Besides, having a guest around might just make Jack Morris back off his son, stop badgering him about his career and decisions, and finally just be normal. _Yeah, right._

His anxiety in approaching the house was high. Every time he came, there were changes to the interior, especially since Brenda had moved into the place. It wasn't tacky or necessarily ugly, but a part of Archie always ached when he found that another old piece of furniture had been thrown out or a familiar picture had been replaced. The walls were painted new colors and the floors were refinished, masking the scuffs and flecks of his childhood; one in the living room where he'd always set his bookbag, one in the hallway where he'd hopped off a skateboard and let it glide along the wall to a stop… gone.

There was something else unsettling about the house, something that Dr. Morris had stowed away in the dark recesses of his mind and tried to never dwell on. It was, perhaps, the reason for all of his aches and remorse and anger revolving around his home and his family. Every once in a while, it crept uninvited and unwelcome into his dreams and always led to an unpleasant morning.

Leslie's eyes were trained on him now, observing how her companion's playful and even cocky attitude had now been replaced. He seemed edgy and quiet and looked quite unapproachable. She thought maybe he was just tired from work and from the drive, but there was something just below the surface that made her think otherwise. It was a certain dullness in his eye, a pallor to his cheeks. The usual happy curve of his mouth was gone, and in its place, a solemn droop to the corners of his lips.

Their thoughts were momentarily interrupted as Brenda threw the door open. At her ankles, a fluffy black dog hopped and yapped excitedly. Archie's future stepmother was tall and unnaturally tan for December in Illinois. She had equally unnatural stick-straight blonde hair and a stiff, ample bosom spilling from the deep v-neck of a zippered fleece pullover. Despite this, she seemed to somehow have the waist of a ten-year-old, and her jeans hung low on her hips. Her face bore not a single crease of any type, and her eyebrows arched in severe, thin lines above thickly-rimmed eyes. When Brenda smiled, Leslie was startled by the glare of the whiteness from behind the plumped lips. The woman threw her arms around Archie, who stood rigidly beside Leslie. The young doctor observed the way that Brenda held her hands away from her stepson-to-be in order to protect freshly French-manicured acrylic nails that ended in flat, blunt tips. The nails were, Leslie thought with an amused twitch of her mouth, not unlike painted Fritos attached to the woman's fingers. A very large diamond set in platinum glimmered on her finger, waving inches from Leslie's nose as Brenda patted Archie's back with her wrists and the heels of her hands.

"And you must be Leslie," she said, throwing out her arms and reeling her into another equally awkward hug. This time, she swayed quickly from side to side instead of patting. "We're so glad you both could get away for a few days. We don't see much of this one, especially not with a girlfriend!" Leslie straightened up at the sound of 'girlfriend' and slid her hand into Archie's sweaty one.

As it turned out, the elder Morris was still away at an ice fishing trip and wouldn't be returning until later that evening. Brenda added that she would be equally tied up for the afternoon; she needed to make sure that catering plans were set for the next two days because, naturally, Brenda hated to cook. As she opened her mouth to offer to cook a bit, Leslie felt a firm hand on her arm and pressure to turn around. Archie led Leslie to the stairs, lying that they'd both just gotten off of long shifts and needed a few hours to recuperate. He closed the door to one of the bedrooms and backed into it, as though barricading them in.

"Wow, so you were into her at one point?" Leslie asked incredulously. Morris lowered his head for a moment.

"She wasn't always so… _processed._ That's fairly recent. She quit her job, so she needs something to occupy her time, I guess. Now you understand, right? Now you know why doing this alone is possibly the most-" She interrupted him with a gentle kiss.

"You're gonna owe me," she sighed into his neck. He laughed in response, setting his chin down on her shoulder and breathing deeply.

"I know," he whispered.

Because Dr. Morris hadn't seen his father or his… fiancée in a while, the striking physical differences had thrown him a bit. He'd been so nervous for Leslie, but she'd been very cool about the whole thing, never letting on for one moment that there was anything awkward at all about the situation. More than anything, seeing Brenda made him appreciate Leslie's simplicity. In the past, Archie had only noticed the beauty queens and party girls, but Hope had been unconventionally beautiful and sweet. It was the blonde med student who had opened Archie's eyes to girls-next-door. Now, he could not help but admire the way Leslie's hair bounced and tossed, how soft it was to the touch. His shirts never bore beige make-up smudges when she rested her head on his shoulder, and when he hugged her, there were no jutting bones to grip.

"I want to show you the best part of this place. What size shoe do you wear?"

* * *

Morris took Leslie outside to see the yard. The backyard turned out to be a vast property of trees and a pathway that led to a secluded pond. A rusty hockey goal sat at one end of the ice. Near the edge was a simple wooden bench that bowed a bit in the middle with age. Archie took a seat next to her on it. He was quick to lace up his own skates and then knelt before her to tie Brenda's borrowed skates to Leslie's feet. As he looked up at her, at that happy face, he was struck by the comfort that he felt bent down before her on one knee. He quickly focused on the skates again.

"I haven't ice-skated since I was a little girl." Nostalgia swept over her, and she was transported to a time when crimped ponytails and legwarmers were a staple of the ice rink in her town.

"I think it's time you got back on that horse."

"Yeah, but I'm older; the falls are going to hurt a lot more," she laughed. While Leslie was stiff and wobbly on her blades, Morris skated effortlessly, gliding around her in a circle. She stared at him as he stopped before her, grinning.

"I hate you," she said, deadpan.

"Wow, something that I'm better at than you. But it's not really fair; I grew up on the ice. Junior league hockey for years. That Mighty Ducks movie? That was basically my childhood." Taking her hand, he skated slowly beside her, steadying her. "You're thinking about it too much. Don't think about it," he laughed.

"I'm scared, though!"

"Scared? Of what? That you'll fall? So what? If you do, you'll be taking me with you. Lift up your head and close your eyes; I'll guide you. You just have to feel it in your legs and feet." She took a deep breath, covering her mouth with a cream-colored glove, a stark contrast to her pinched-pink lips and blush from the cold. As the snow fell, it flecked her hair, sometimes falling in such a way that Archie could see individual flakes, their perfect crystal patterns glittering against waves the color of caramel.

He began to skate again, and his speed forced her to loosen her legs to keep up with him instead of being dragged. Her eyelashes fluttered as she opened her surprised eyes.

"Hey! I think I'm kind of getting into a rhythm." He grinned at her and glided to a stop, pulling her around to face him and never letting go of her hand. "You stopped me just when I was getting the hang of it!" Leslie smacked him on the chest and blew a deep breath from her open grinning mouth.

They stood there in the waning hours of daylight surrounded by the place of his childhood. The same glowing house that had stood there every Christmas Eve. The same trees casting shadows and standing like sentries all around, the only difference being their growth over the years. There had been white Christmases and gray ones, cold ones and mild ones that had left the pond unsafe for skates or altogether unfrozen. Christmases where he'd failed to come home. Christmases where he'd felt like a stranger. Christmases where his father had been away for one reason or another. Christmases where he'd come alone, and those where he'd spent it with a girl, usually coinciding with his father's absence. There had been so many different Christmases here, but there had never been one like this.

Putting aside his reservations about coming home, he realized that he felt happy- genuinely happy, and everything made sense and felt right and complete. Their faces met in a slow, deliberate way, and their kiss was a warm and striking contrast to the cold air around them. The soft knit of her gloves crawled up his neck and to the sides of his face, covering his cheeks and making tiny snagging and popping sounds as they collided with his whiskers. She broke the embrace gently and grinned at him mischievously, skating unsteadily out of his reach.

"I _know_ you're not challenging me to catch you," he laughed. Leslie giggled in response and skated further, throwing a look over her shoulder. He skated an artful circle around her before grabbing her from behind. She let a little yelp as he pulled her into the powdery snow and laughed until he covered her lips with his. She pulled him close and snuggled into him with a slight shiver. "Are you cold?" he asked, now realizing just how cold it really was.

Reluctantly, she admitted that it was a bit colder than when they'd left the house. Perched on the bench again, Leslie watched Morris below her as he carefully took off her skates and replaced them with her black boots. There was a certain childlike quality in him, a playful sweetness behind his swagger. This was a man who'd never actually grown into a hardened adulthood or known a great many burdens. Maybe it was because he wasn't quite settled down yet with a family- beyond Pepper. In direct opposition, however, was this nurturing quality that had sprung forth recently. He always wanted to drive her home or bring her lunch or hold her hand.

As he sat down beside her, his weight vibrating through the seat, he looked over and noticed her staring. He held the skate in his hand for a moment, caught in the green eyes of someone several years his junior and yet seemingly out of his league in so many ways. _How did you get so lucky? _In the end, she broke the eye contact, rising to her feet and jumping in place to keep warm.

"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying." When he stood and turned around, a snowball immediately splattered across the front of his coat. Another hit his sleeve. While Leslie began to run to the house, he stooped down for snow and quickly followed after her. She tossed a glance over one shoulder, and his mind took a picture. It was how he always wanted to remember her: hair blowing around her, her features rosy and vibrant with life, her mouth open slightly in laughter. Of course, no one was perfect, but to Archie Morris on this thirty-something Christmas Eve, Leslie was as close as anyone could come.

* * *

Leslie stomped her feet on the rug, cakes of snow tumbling down to where Pepper and the black mop-dog were licking them up. She left her coat next to Archie's on a series of hooks and followed him to the kitchen. A booming voice coming from behind the swinging door grew louder and louder as they approached, until finally, Dr. Morris reached over her head to push the door open, and Leslie could see its source.

The elder Morris was leaning on the marble counter with one hand. He was a little taller than his son and just as thin, wearing a pullover similar to his young wife's and a pair of khaki pants. Mr. Morris's hair was lighter than his son's, mostly due to its slight thinning and streaking of white hairs. A pair of small glasses perched on his nose, and Leslie could see his blue eyes behind them drifting up and down her figure. It was an uncomfortable feeling, and she shifted, placing herself somewhat behind Archie.

"Well, well, well. Decided to drag yourself in for a few days, did you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at his boy.

"Yeah," Archie replied, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Leslie was aware that he'd shrunk back more than she had under his father's stare. While moments earlier, he had seemed so happy and vibrant, it seemed as though everything had been sucked from him, leaving a sagging, uncertain form in its wake. This was the Archie from the driveway earlier that day. Nevertheless, he cleared his throat and introduced, "This is Leslie, Dad. She works with me at County," in a voice that Leslie had heard him use the night he had crashed her date with Nick.

"Well, now I feel better… having a _real _doctor in the house," he chuckled, reaching out to shake Leslie's hand.

"I'm not sure what you mean," she replied with a polite smile, turning to look at her friend. He had forced a thin-lipped smile, sheepishly look around the kitchen and avoiding the two of them.

"Oh, well, you of all people should know that Archie's favorite part of wearing that coat is the admiration it gets from the women. That's why I was pretty surprised that he would pair up with another doctor, and you don't seem much like his type…" Leslie let a surprised huff of laughter slip, unsure what to say.

"That's my dad, always a kidder, always the first to dip into that Christmas scotch," the younger Morris suddenly piped up. "Why don't you fix me one? On the rocks. Don't slip any water in there on me, either, Dad."

Archie could feel relief as his father seemed to forget his inspection of Leslie and incessant critique of his career. He also welcomed the opportunity to calm his nerves with a little booze, even if it was scotch. He wanted to drink past caring about the uncomfortable glances from Leslie as she helped Brenda unpack foil platters from paper bags and set the table. His father clapped a hand down on his shoulder, pushing the slick glass into his hand and giving him a shove onto the leather sofa in the living room.

"She's a cute little thing. Younger than I expected."

"You should talk," Archie muttered, tinkling the ice and deliberately staring at the snapping logs in the fireplace.

"More like Lily than Brenda." _Oh no. Not this. _The doctor cringed at the sound of his mother's name. It was such a sore subject. Now that it was in the air, though, he stole a glance at the young woman in the dining room. He supposed she was somewhat like his mother, with her longer hair and fresh face and smaller, softer shape. Instinctually, he glanced at the mantle where a family portrait of the three of them had always sat. Now, it had been replaced by a photograph of Brenda's little black dog, but still used the same old wooden frame. The sight made him a bit ill, and his throat began to constrict for just a moment. _One, two, three, four… _It was what he'd always done since he was eight years old and started thinking about her. His father had not allowed him to cry, so he'd counted until he could think clearly, and then he'd always told himself something funny, usually something from the previous night's Johnny Carson. He could not remember the last time he'd cried. It could very well have been all those years ago…

"How's Henry?" he asked, abruptly shifting conversation. _Good._ His voice had shown no signs of the trouble in his mind. His father shifted and started a much safer conversation about his partner and the firm and their recent cases. By the time he sat down at the dinner table to a glass of wine and a plate of ham, Archie's cheeks were burning red with two tumblers of scotch downed, and he felt much more relaxed.

He thought of all the dinners that they'd had here, which were surprisingly few. Mostly, he'd sat here as a teenager eating macaroni and cheese from the pan and ramen noodle cups on school vacations, rolling joints to smoke out on the back porch. The times when his father had been home were not much different than the present. The elder Morris was absorbed in his work; the younger was swaying slightly and hoping that no one would notice just how loose he'd become from one vice or another. And all he ever wanted was to slide out of sight and be anywhere but there under the scrutiny of his hard-ass dad. He dared to look at Leslie to his left, who was in turn looking at Brenda across the table from her. Brenda's seat had been the guest's chair when he was a boy, making the seat that Leslie was occupying the new guest's chair… but also formerly his mother's chair. _Jesus. _With that, he took a long drink and resumed counting.

"So what's his death toll these days, Leslie? How far into the triple digits is he? And you, what's your record?" Mr. Morris obviously thought this deprecating sense of humor was both appropriate and funny, and it made Dr. Morris hate him all the more.

"Dad, cut it out," he murmured. It should have come out firmly, but the embarrassment of it had choked part of his speech and taken all of the moisture from his mouth.

"Honestly, Jack, I don't like meat as it is, but all that doctor-death talk makes me think of the poor little pigs they have to kill to make the ham," Brenda whined. For once, Archie was grateful for the woman's presence.

"Nineteen at County," Leslie replied, having just swallowed a bite of catered garlic mashed potatoes. "For me, anyways, but Archie's a better doctor than I am," she added.

"I don't keep track," Archie muttered, stirring his peas. The truth was that he remembered every time he'd had to call a patient. It was like a personal defeat when they crashed on his watch. He loathed the words 'time of death.' He especially hated calling the kids' deaths.

"Hold on, hold on, your old man is uh- don't tell me- Roland Thomas, that Congressman, right?"

"Guilty," Leslie replied with a tight smile. She hated discussing politics. Her father's liberal status and very public presence always raised a huff for some people, and for others, they would go on and on like he was some god. Leslie knew him just as 'Daddy,' the man who'd taken her for ice cream when she'd won the science fair and hugged away her tears when she'd narrowly lost the regional spelling bee and called her every Sunday during college. People were always a bit miffed that she didn't know everything about his recent speeches or initiatives or colleagues in Congress.

"I'll say. Hasn't he been working on some kind of tax reform bill?"

"I don't really keep up on the politics. I guess I'm like Archie, a little more scientifically inclined than politically so." The younger Morris internally groaned as his name popped back into conversation and quickly filled his mouth with food so that there was an excuse to remain quiet.

"Ha," Jack Morris chuckled. "I wouldn't say he's scientifically inclined as much as he just likes the access to the 'Big Boys' medicine cabinet and not having to take work home with him. I bet you know how he hates work. Sometimes, I think he just got that M.D. so that he could be 'Dr. Morris' and one-up his Pops." The dining room was silent for a beat. Father stared coldly at son; son shrank further into the chair.

While Archie's father launched into a story about one of his son's childhood failures, Leslie began to tune him out, looking instead at her companion, chewing his ham half-heartedly. Her hand snaked beneath the table and found his, squeezing his fingertips until he reached forward and took her hand. Brown eyes slowly moved to look at her. She offered a supportive smile and squeezed his hand. _I'm here,_ it seemed to comfort, _and I'm not listening to a word he's saying_.

After dinner, Leslie was quick to offer that she and Archie would clear the table and load the dishwasher, which earned a remark that he had better watch out because his girl was already volunteering him for work and holding him under her thumb. In truth, Archie was relieved to have the time alone. As soon as Brenda and Jack were out of sight, Leslie wheeled around.

"Oh my God," she hissed, nodding at the door they'd just exited.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry. That's just the way he is. He never lets up on the whole doctor-slacker thing." He slumped over and rubbed his temples.

Leslie stared at him. He seemed very small, like the young, disappointing boy that she was sure Jack saw every time he looked at his son. Dr. Morris chewed nervously on his lip and stared at the cabinets, his mind obviously drifting elsewhere. Placing the last of the dishes into the dishwasher, she straightened up and pushed the hair from her face with the back of her hand. Archie still had not moved. She decided to coax whatever it was that he was thinking about from him, considering the most tactful way to do so.

"You seem different here. It's like you became another person in this house," she noted, testing the sink water before gingerly washing her hands, yet never taking her eyes off of him.

"Yeah." He seemed reluctant to respond at all, but cleared his throat and continued flatly. "Well, we don't spend a lot of Christmases together. I only came because you agreed to come, too. My old man… he's changed a lot over the years. He used to be this family man, believe it or not. He used to like me. We used to come out on the pond and shoot goals together. He taught me how to skate. My mom- she used to sit on that old bench and watch us; she had weak ankles, never skated. It was hard for them to have kids. I was it… until I was eight. She got pregnant, and it was this happy time."

He stopped and was noticeably avoiding eye contact, stuffing his hands in his pockets and toeing the rug for a moment. This was the story that he hated the most, but he couldn't count on his father not telling it in a fit of drunkenness, or possibly just to be cruel. His own lack of judgment from the scotch and wine was fueling the urge to just get it over with and tell her. He took a deep breath and tried to remember the way that he'd always explained it, a memorized script that required no thought, no recollection of the events of that day.

"So summer came. Five months. She'd never been so far- except with me- but she had been feeling sick. The doctor said it was probably just because she was older and it was more strain than with me. A couple days after the Fourth, it was real hot outside, and one of my friends invited me over for a swim. I wasn't gonna go; my dad had told me to stay home and look after her while he was at work, but she told me that she was feeling better and to go over and play. So I did. While I was down the street, she started feeling sharp pains. She went to the bathroom and started to bleed. She was walking down the steps to call the doctor when she got dizzy and fell. And Mom laid at the bottom of those steps until I got home at four o'clock."

A brief memory of his mother in a heap on the landing coursed through his thoughts, throwing him for a moment. Blood had pooled around her pelvis and her head where she'd hit it during the fall. Bruises had marked her pale skin, and her hair had fallen over half of her face. One arm was bent unnaturally; the other was draped around her motionless abdomen, and her legs were splayed on the stairs, bare with her sundress bunched at her waist. He'd never forgotten it. How could he?

"See, now I know that she'd broken her neck and died instantly and that there was nothing I could have done… not even now. But she was still warm, and I thought that maybe I could save her." He paused again, swallowing hard. _But I couldn't. _The thought was still bitter after all these years. His voice was so hollow when he continued, as though it could not have come from any being with feeling.

"Dad never came out and said it, but I know he blamed me. He buried himself in work. We stayed here because the house and all the memories kept a part of her alive, I guess. Our part-time housekeeper Gloria started to work full-time. My family's Catholic, but she used to take me to her church every Sunday- this Baptist church with a gospel choir. I learned to sing there, this little rich white boy in a sea of middle-class, blue-collar black families. My father came home one evening and saw her sitting out on the bench at the pond, watching me skate, and he just lost it. I guess he thought that she was taking my Mom's place. She never came back after that, and I turned all my anger towards him. I was so pissed about my mom, and I was getting into a lot of trouble at school. He responded by sending me to boarding school; it was his excuse to finally get rid of me for most of the year. Holidays were just about the only time he had to see me."

"Archie," Leslie whispered, her eyes full of tears. His own eyes had softened, but they remained dry. He'd never told anyone this much detail before; he had always left the details of his absence out, choosing to make telling it very impersonal. It was so easy to talk to Leslie. She was empathetic and open and a quiet listener, and for some reason, she cared about him.

"Somewhere along the line, I had to make a career decision. I'd always carried this guilt of not being able to save my mom, so I decided that if I was going to do anything, it would be to try to make sure that I never lost someone again. I went to medical school, but I was never a great student. Nobody thought I'd ever make it, least of all, my dad. He was just glad that I had some sort of direction and that I'd be out of the house in a few years. Dad's money got me into college and medical school. And his name, of course. Before that, it had been all about just getting by, passing the days and baking to get out of these feelings of never being able to impress Dad. But when it comes to lives, you can't just 'get by.'

"When I was new to County, I couldn't cut it; it was just too fast. One day early on, I was in the ambulance bay getting high, contemplating what I should do next, and this surgeon finds me and sends me inside. There was a helicopter accident- it fell into the street- and it killed him. It should have been me. I guess it sort of was; it killed that part of me. The guy was an abrasive prick; nobody missed him much. I guess that's what I'm afraid of; dying unnoticed, never having belonged anywhere. Even though I hadn't made the best impression at County, it was all I had. I sucked it up, and I dug back in. I read journals and memorized obscure cases, did research and tried to be somebody." As sobriety began to set in, he was starting to realize that perhaps this had all been a mistake. Involving her in the muck of his family was just one big disaster. "God, this is probably so stupid to you." Turning away to take a moment, he inhaled and was about to offer to take her home, when he felt her touch his shoulder and step towards him.

"I meant what I said," she told him softly. "You _are _a good doctor." He didn't acknowledge what she'd said, but it brought him so much comfort. No one had ever stood up to Jack Morris on his behalf. No one had ever told him that he was a good doctor, at least, not anyone who actually knew him.

He wanted to quickly end the conversation and move on, so he sniffed, cleared his throat, and concluded, "Anyways, a few years back, my dad had a late midlife crisis and turned into this sort of playboy, soaking up life and driving fancy cars and dating again- younger women, of course. And here we are, a little dysfunctional group of relative strangers," he finished with a smirk.

Leslie wrapped her arms around him, resting a hand on the back of his head and one at the center of his back. Archie closed his eyes and drank in the intoxicating feeling of being close to her. She made him believe that he wasn't just a face in the background of someone else's story. Leslie had provided a sliver of hope that there was someone who could understand him and forgive him his faults.

"Remember when you gave me those imaginary reigns and said 'yours'?" she asked, as her hands slid down to hold his. She took a step back to face him. Archie nodded, remembering that night very clearly. "Well," she whispered, pressing his hands to her heart, "yours."

* * *

"Are you awake?" he asked quietly, breaking the silence in the dark bedroom. Leslie didn't stir from where she was nestled against him. "Don't you wonder why I come back here at all?"

His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, and he could see the room that had been his since he could remember. It had light blue walls with wooden trim, and a bookshelf across the room still held his hockey trophies and game pucks. It was just as it had always been: plain. He'd never had a reason to decorate because his real home had always been dormitories.

"I used to sit back and just take all this crap from my old man every once in a while… I guess because I was lonely. Enduring all his abuse was better than sitting alone or worse- working the holidays at the hospital. Now, though, I guess I wonder again. I'm not lonely; you make sure of that. You're so freakin' needy," he smiled. _What are you doing? She's not even awake. You're talking to yourself. That's what you're doing. You're teasing a person who's not even awake. _Morris's expression fell to a more serious one, and his arms wrapped around her more tightly. "But it's funny; I've wanted to tell you, but I didn't want you to know- how stupid is that, huh? I guess I don't want you to think that it's another Archie Morris line to get in your pants or something. You're pretty tough, though. I don't think it would have worked. So, I'll tell you right now when you can't get dumbfounded and say something like 'thank you' and make it awkward. I love you, Leslie." He held his breath and waited for her to sit up, having only pretended to be asleep, but she continued to sleep with the same rhythm to her breathing.

It had been just one year ago that Morris had rejected the advances of a lonely Hope at Christmas time, a move that he had questioned on the roof after his shift. He could have sworn that he saw a sleigh in the sky that night; it had forced him to take a good hard look at the couple times that he had taken a hit of acid in college and truly believe that a hallucination could set in at any time. Though he was sure it hadn't been there, it had opened him to the idea that miracles could happen. "Maybe one day, I'll have the balls to tell you to your face… when you're not sleeping." _Wouldn't that be some kind of miracle..._

_A/N: Soundtrack on IMEEM. Link available in my profile._


	8. Stand

_A/N: Told you I was busy. ;-) It's a short one this time. Soundtrack link in my profile._

Mr. Morris was seated at the kitchen counter next to a small countertop television, disgustedly flipping through the channels. He and Leslie were the only people awake at seven that morning, and they'd met in the kitchen. Leslie had been trying to think of something that she could cook for a nice breakfast. Despite the unpleasantness of her hosts, she still felt obligated to do them a favor for their attempt at hospitality. Mr. Morris, on the other hand, was up for his morning cup of coffee and newspaper. He explained that he always liked to meet the paper carrier to make sure that they didn't slack on the delivery time just because it was Christmas.

"Damn parades. Look at that crap. You know they film this around Halloween, Leslie? Damn Mickey Mouse garbage on my Christmas morning."

"I always liked the twenty-four hours of _Christmas Story,_" she replied cheerily, stirring cinnamon pancake batter. She was undeniably a morning person, and she'd tried to wake Archie, but he'd only groaned and pulled the covers over his head. "How do you like your eggs, Mr. Morris?"

"Scrambled," he replied, somewhat surprised to see someone using the kitchen. "Brenda, though, she likes just the whites," he added.

"No problem."

"Honey, let me ask you a question, and I want you to be honest. What's a nice girl like you doing with a loser like Archie?" Leslie didn't look up from the griddle, and she replied without hesitation.

"I know that he's made some mistakes, but everyone has. He's trying to be a good man now; that's what matters to me." Mr. Morris was silent, probably thinking of all sorts of rude things to say and embarrassing stories about his son, but he kept them to himself.

* * *

After a late breakfast, the family sat down in the living room to unwrap gifts. "Oh, you got an artificial tree," Archie noted, taking a seat. "Looks so real, I didn't even notice yesterday." He was really making an effort today to keep things civil… and sober. The tree twinkled with white lights and impersonal silver and gold glass ornaments. The doctor silently wondered what had become of the motley assortment of decorations that he remembered, but he chose not to ask. As if on cue, Brenda stood and spritzed a foul-smelling pine spray onto the branches.

"There, Archie. Now, it's just like the real thing and much more environmentally savvy, right?" she asked, turning to Leslie, who supposed that was because her father was pushing for green reforms. She nodded politely, not mentioning the chemicals in the spray or the abundance of bleached paper on the gifts below.

The two doctors watched Morris's father and bride-to-be unwrap their gifts. Brenda clapped her hands as Jack uncovered a new gold watch. He asked her to set it, and she, in turn, turned to Leslie, as pulling the knob would certainly botch her nails. While her guest tinkered with the watch, Brenda excitedly tore into her gift, a shiny new diamond bracelet. She flung her wrist at Leslie to snap the clasp and then flicked her bony arm this way and that, admiring it giddily while Jack continued to watch television. Leslie could hear the familiar words _"You'll shoot your eye out, kid." _

"This is, um, from me and, um, Leslie… from us," he said, awkwardly, placing a gift in his father's lap. He glanced nervously at Leslie, who was grinning broadly at the word 'us.' She had no idea what was in the box, as it actually was not from 'us,' but rather Archie. Still, it was the first mention of them as a couple to other people. Mr. Morris tore back the paper to reveal an electronics box. "It's a DVR, Dad. You know how you complain that you 'never know what the hell's on'? Well, now you will, and you don't even have to watch any 'damn commercials.' Even paid for the subscription for a year. The cable company's going to come install it tomorrow. So, Merry Christmas," he finished, sounding proud of himself.

The elder Morris adjusted his glasses on his nose and looked at the box. "So it just does what my _TV Guide_ and VCR do is all?" he asked curtly. His son's shoulders sagged a bit. "And with all the cases I have, how am I supposed to read this manual, huh? It's gotta be fifty pages, and it's probably all in Chinese."

"I've got one just like it, Dad. I can help you and show you how to use all the features."

Leslie tried to smooth things over and remind everyone that she was still there. "They're actually really easy to use, Mr. Morris. I'm not very good with-"

The elder Morris continued his tirade as though he hadn't heard her, "Oh, that ought to be a laugh- you showing me how to do something. Why don't I just ask Brandy to read the manual to me?" he chortled, gesturing at the black dog, which was running excited circles around Pepper's legs. The schnauzer whined in response, tripping awkwardly toward his master.

"Yeah, well, you have everything else, Dad. It was this or- I don't even know- another watch," Archie threw out testily.

"Is this mine?" Brenda asked perkily, pausing from her admiration of the bracelet to grab a box from the coffee table. She didn't wait for the reply and tore open the paper to find a clothing box. "Ooh, Barney's! I like where you're going with this," she said with a girlish giggle.

She pulled a beautiful mint green cashmere sweater from the box and held it up. "I got a medium because Dad said that's what size you had in your closet," Archie muttered. Brenda's grin wavered for just a moment, and she furrowed her brow in thought. "Should I have gotten the large?" he asked, an obvious dig. Again, his future stepmom struggled to keep that pleasant expression, gritting her teeth ever so slightly as she responded.

"No, it'll fit. It's just… you kept the gift receipt, right? Because I'm much better with dark colors. It's my undertones," she explained gesturing at her face. Archie's mouth shrunk to a thin, terse line.

The only sound for a moment was of the television. At the sudden quiet, Mr. Morris glanced sideways.

Archie was fuming. He'd started the day so optimistically. If Leslie could bear them, if she could try so hard and be so accommodating, he thought that perhaps he could get through the next few hours. She was holding his hand tightly, sensing the blood boiling up in the body beside her. It suddenly was clear that he'd wasted so many years of his life being afraid of this man and what he thought.

Ignoring the gift receipt inquiry, he lunged forward to grab a flat box at his feet. "Is this one mine?" he asked sarcastically. "Boy, I wonder what this is. I bet they're not Bulls tickets and a check!" His eyes were growing wider and his voice louder. His father looked up from the television as his son tore the box lid off and pulled out an envelope of basketball tickets and a brown check. "Amazing. You give me tickets from your firm's season seats every year, Dad."

"Oh, my, um, pager," Leslie said in a small voice as she stood.

"I didn't hear your pager," Archie said, standing quickly and still glaring.

"It's on 'vibrate.' Excuse me," she replied quietly, retrieving her phone from her pocket and leaving the room.

"We got her a Burberry scarf. It's sort of generic, but you didn't give me very much warning she was coming," Brenda said in a short tone as she straightened up and handed a box to Archie. "I figured it would go with anything, but I didn't count on green nylon," she added, pointing a finger at Leslie's down jacket on its hook.

Leslie slipped back into the room. "The hospital needs me, so I'm going to catch a cab-"

"Don't bother; I'll take you."

"You don't have t-"

"_Please._" He tore open the box and handed her the scarf. "Here you go." Leslie's mouth fell open and worked up and down as she tried to form words, but only a small croak escaped her. Embarrassed, she dropped the scarf and fled to the bedroom to pack their things. Her friend attempted to follow, but he stopped at the sound of his name.

"Archie," his father barked, standing from his seat. "Don't you have something to say to us?"

"What? 'Thanks'? Yeah, thanks Dad, for the awesome and _surprising _gift. You really had me this year. Thanks, Brenda, for all that great take-out. Thanks for boxing up all the shit in this house and getting rid of the only reasons I ever felt like I could stand this place. Maybe 'sorry'? Sorry you feel the need to send me on a guilt trip for not showing up regularly to listen to you belittle me and dwell on every stupid thing I've done. And yes, Dad, there's been a lot. Sorry I couldn't give you the satisfaction of laying that slick comeback on me. Sorry, Brenda, but this really doesn't go with her undertones, do you have a gift receipt?" He had stooped down for the scarf and shook it now in his fist.

"Your girlfriend's just as dumb as you are for not seeing what a joke you are," his father hissed. If he was angry at Jack before, Archie was livid at the mention of Leslie.

"Screw you, Jack." The red-headed doctor had taken a defiant step forward, pointing a finger at the man who'd caused him so much pain over the years. His words were laced with venom, and something inside him seemed to wash him with adrenaline as he spoke them.

"Get outta this house," his father growled from his chair. "And don't come back here."

"I've been waiting all these years to finally hear you say that. With. Pleasure. Pops." Archie replied in an equally low voice. Brenda still knelt on the floor and was now holding her yapping dog, staring up at her fiancé's son in horror.

All attention shifted to the steps, where Leslie had come noisily thumping down with their things. "I'm going to start the car," she stuttered. Flustered as she was, she'd gone outside without her coat and dropped Pepper's leash behind her.

"You embarrass me!" his father yelled as he walked toward the door. Archie placed the leash on his dog's collar and stood, removing his coat and Leslie's from the wall.

He straightened up and responded coldly, "No, Dad. _You_ embarrass _me_." With that, he pushed past the door and briskly took the steps down to the car. Leslie was shaking in the passenger's seat.

"I lied," she blurted out. "My pager's set on the _Doogie Howser_ theme song. It's a running joke with Frank. That was awful!" He looked over his shoulder and backed down the drive, turning back to give a little wave to Brenda in the window. She shot him a disgusted look of shock and threw the curtains closed.

"Awfully cool," Morris replied, smiling again. Somewhere, he felt guilty for putting her through all of this, but he would deal with that momentarily. For now, he was enjoying a high the likes of which he had never before experienced. "Did you get me an actual Christmas present? Because I already got the best gift you could have given me. A reason to tell that asshole what I really think. Oh God, I feel like I could fly." Leslie gave a little moan and rested her head on the window.

"Where are we going?" she asked, as the car turned into the town instead of the highway.

"To my bank's money machine. I'm depositing this check before he remembers to cancel it," he replied, triumphantly pulling the envelope from his pocket. "And I'm calling to cancel his DVR service first thing tomorrow. Merry freakin' Christmas."

_A/N: I hope that this update did not disappoint and that I actually still have readers. Once again, please drop a review if you have the chance. Thanks for checking out the updates!_


	9. In Darkness

_A/N: Sorry this took me so long to finish. I had a serious case of writer's block. Hope you like it. Soundtrack link is available in my profile._

_The ride was so quiet. He hadn't even noticed until now, too pleased with himself. This must be what it was like to finally feel like a man, grown up after so many years. It was when he'd turned off the car in front of her building that he began to feel that something was not as it should be. It was a palpable quiet, tense. The only sound was an occasional creak beside him as the passenger shifted uncomfortably in her seat. How many times had she done this now, only to be drowned out by the sounds of "Feliz Navidad" and "Walking in a Winter Wonderland" and whatever else the stations had played in the last hour?_

_Her eyes seemed smoky with smudged makeup where she'd stopped tears from falling by rubbing them back into her lashlines, and her lower lip was much duller than the upper, yet full and dark pink because she'd chewed and sucked so hard that the lipstick was completely gone._

"_I'm not sure you should come up." It was the voice of another woman, one who'd known heartache and was weary of ever crossing its path again. It was empty and devoid of everything that made her voice so beautiful. Its musical ring, the hint of joy that might swing right up into a childlike laugh- gone._

"_What?"_

"_This was quite possibly the most uncomfortable two days of my life and definitely the worst Christmas."_

"_Leslie-"_

"_You knew that it could turn out like that and that I wanted to just spend a quiet holiday for once. You knew that and you dragged me into it anyway like I was some kind of distraction for your father and that terrible woman."_

"_If you just let me-"_

"_You're just like all the others. You don't care about me. I'm just some rebound or an acceptable alternative to being alone. I thought you were finally going to come out and say I was your girlfriend, but the only people that did that were your dad and Brenda."_

"_That's not-"_

"_You crash my date with a normal person, Archie Morris. You act like a total jerk at work only to lavish me with affection when we're alone. You invite me to your family's home for Christmas after I've only known you three months just to be your protection when it inevitably goes bad. I honestly can't figure out if you're twisted or just an idiot."_

"_You don't understand."_

"_No, I'm glad that you got closure with that whole Dad thing, Archie. I'm happy that you stood up to him, and I'm not saying you shouldn't have said the things you said, but I didn't want to be the 'magic feather that helped you fly' or something. I thought you were taking me home to show me off or-or-I don't even know. Maybe I don't want to know. I wish that you could see the person that I saw and be him all the time. The guy who was so honest with me, who gave me those stupid reigns, who would have done anything to prevent my being hurt, and who didn't want to hide us anymore. Remember him? I liked him."_

"_But you wanted to keep us hidden."_

"_You just don't get it, do you? I've lived under a microscope forever and under the eye of protective services and camera lenses that reported my entire life to everyone. You got to make mistakes, Archie, and the only person that paid was you. If I was out with the wrong guy, if I got wasted at some party, if I flunked a class, people would have known. My problems aren't just mine; they reflect back on my family and my dad's ethics and ability to lead people. My mistakes not only cost him his dream, but they cost everyone who believed in him and what he stands for. So I've had to be careful. I've had to work twice as hard, and I'm so damned used to the thick black line that separates the public Leslie from the private one that it's been hard to think about it any other way. I never wanted to hide us; I wanted to make sure that there was an 'us' first. I didn't want to be another notch on your belt. I hear them talk about you, the stories they tell. Sometimes I think that you even try to live up to them. But I was so sure that wasn't who you were. Now…" At this, she had tipped her head back to let the tears wash back into her eyes and begun to fumble for the handle of the door._

"_Don't do this Leslie. Come on, you'd rather cap off an agreed terrible day with a night alone than let me come in and make it up to you? 'Cause I will; I'll make it up to you."_

"_Good night."_

The finality of it all brought him back to consciousness again. It had been just three days, and he'd relived those few minutes in his mind more times than he could count. They distracted him during rounds. They hung in the background during traumas, just waiting for a portion of his mind to clear so that they could swim back into his thoughts. Though there had been plenty of times that they'd gone days without crossing paths in the ER, it suddenly seemed intentional, as though she was always looking around the corner for him and hiding as he passed.

He wanted just a moment to see her face and gauge that first reaction. Would she wince in pain or regret? Would she glare in anger? Would she lower her eyes in remorse? Steal a hopeful glance that he was still looking at her with that same longing and admiration that he always had? But every time he looked for her, he only saw the angry faces of the mothers who had been in chairs with feverish toddlers for six hours, the annoyed residents waiting for him to make calls, the bewildered nurses who'd been asking him for orders only to have him take five times longer than it usually took.

His old demons, the ones that hungered for flesh and excess, were still there, and he questioned what exactly he'd lost for a few seconds. He'd never known if the sex was good or miss the way that her skin felt against him or the way that her body fit his, but he missed something much deeper. For the first time in his life, Morris missed the reassurance of knowing that there was someone who would always listen, someone who knew just how to make the parts of him that had been grated away by the outside world come back. The way that his jokes and teasing made her laugh instead of just rolling her eyes like everyone else. He missed their secret language of looks and touches. He missed his friend.

Morris wondered if she had opened the box he'd given her for Christmas to find the silver snowflake on its fine chain. Maybe she'd thrown away the whole thing without opening it, or she'd opened it and flushed the necklace down her toilet where all crap should go. There were a million things that could have happened. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he had to admit, he wasn't sorry that he'd given it to her. Without that silent commitment on his part, maybe he wouldn't have gotten as much time with her. Maybe she would have called him out before Thanksgiving; maybe he wouldn't have even gotten November.

There is always a point after the death of a "thing" with someone when people look back and feel regret, whether it is that they ever met someone or that they never said or did something or that they let things end the way they did. But his was the other kind of regret: the regret that it couldn't have gone on longer, that he couldn't make her see that he was all those things that she said he hadn't been… or at least that he was willing to try.

* * *

"Sh-sh! Here she comes. I'll find out once and for all. And remember the deal," Ray said, pointing at Neela, who rolled her eyes and lifted a candy bar out of her pocket. "Hey Leslie," Ray greeted in a sing-song voice. "I see that you're working New Years Eve until eight, and I was just wondering if it would be possible for me to get a little earlier time out that day. Killer party."

"Hey Ray, I'm going to need all my residents so that I can get out of here on time for my own killer party," she replied in a mocking tone. "But you could ask whoever's on after me; they might take pity on you."

"Doubtful… it's Morris," Ray replied, shooting a look at Neela, who looked up with interest to see Leslie's reaction.

Typical of any staff member who heard that name, Leslie gave an involuntary eye-roll and curl of the lip. "Yeah, you're probably right. Well, I guess we could play it by ear, but if there's a lot going on, you're staying the whole shift." She signed off on a chart and made her way to the curtains for rounds without another word.

"You still think she's the 'hot chick' that 'went gooey' at the aquarium?" Ray asked, folding his arms and looking down at Neela, who threw her hands up and produced the Twix from her pocket, handing it to him. "Thank you."

* * *

"So are we cracking him?" Gates asked, readying a ribspreader.

"No, we're not," Morris answered from where he'd been examining films. He pulled a tray over and started work. He loved when he could show Gates up with a small, simple procedure. Tony liked to play gunslinger in the ER, especially when Neela was working the OR, but it was these moments that Morris relished.

"Stats are dropping," Hope reminded him.

"O ye of little faith," he replied, making a small incision and reaching for another tool. "Call the OR; Dubenko's gonna want this guy now." Tony cocked his head and leaned in for a closer look. As if on cue, the patient's stats began to rise.

"Nice catch, Dr. Morris," Hope congratulated with a grin. Gates set the instrument down a bit harder than necessary. Morris started to reply but caught a glimpse of Jerry hanging onto an older man who was jabbing a finger into the face of a wide-eyed Dr. Thomas. He excused himself into the hallway.

"You owe me $24.75!" the man screamed.

"I told you; I need to get my wallet. My wallet is in here," she repeated, backing toward the lockerroom. Morris pushed past her to his own locker, where he'd taken to keeping his own wallet after a pickpocket had robbed him in curtains.

"Here, how about $40 for your trouble?" he offered, pushing a crumpled handful at the man.

Everyone was quiet for a moment as the man examined the bills, pocketed them, and left without another word. For the first time, Morris had a moment to study the woman before him. She was wrapped up in a wool coat, pulling it tightly around herself as she shifted back and forth on silver strappy shoes. Her hair hung in soft curls that fell in the middle of her back. He couldn't see her dress, but he wished that he could.

She straightened up and made her way to her locker, opening the door. Morris hung in the doorway and waited for her to acknowledge him. When she didn't, he smirked, "'Thanks, Archie, for the forty bucks and for saving me from the weirdo,'" he said in a high-pitched voice, "Oh no problem, Leslie. It's just what I do." She let out a frustrated growl and paused momentarily before swinging her head back to stare at him.

"I was getting there, okay? First, I've got to find the key I keep in here. The one with the-"

"Pig keychain? Yeah, you forgot your keys at my place last week and had to take that one home with you, remember?"

The image of the keychain sitting on her kitchen counter swam back to her. "Shit. I left my purse in a friend's car, and he left the party with someone and took it with him on accident. Ugh, and I was going to pay the cabbie with my emergencies card from my locker stash." Leslie seemed to be momentarily in her own world, talking to herself. Her eyes had been staring at the shelf of her locker, but they shifted now to him. "I only have $7.50 in vending machine funds. Let me go to the ATM." His arm reached out to stop her, giving her a gentle push back to the space between him and her locker.

"It's okay. Call it your Christmas gift." She hesitated before sheepishly opening her coat. At first, all he could see was the beautiful slate-colored satin slipdress and how it flowed like mercury on her curves, but it was easy to follow the line of her cleavage to a silver snowflake shining brilliantly against her porcelain skin. "Okay, your_ second_ gift," he corrected, swallowing.

"It was so pretty and perfect," she whispered, avoiding his eyes. She sighed, fingering the necklace, absently. "I wanted to call you," she began.

"Don't. I mean, you're tired and have been drinking and-"

"No, I haven't," she countered defensively. She was about to argue further when she decided that it just wasn't worth it. He wasn't going to get under her skin. "_Anyway_, I wanted to call you after I opened it," she murmured, fidgeting.

"You don't have to-"

"No, I started thinking about what you told me in the kitchen on Christmas Eve. About all that. And it made me think that maybe I judged you too quickly and that maybe there's reasons why you are who you are that are beyond your control. I went on and on about wanting to be invisible to someone whose biggest fear is never being noticed and complained about my connection to my dad to the guy who lost that connection when he was eight years old. It was just as much your right to peace as it was mine. And it wasn't even _all_ bad." His mind flew to his confession in bed, but he knew that she was talking about the pond.

"I wouldn't have told you those things in the kitchen if I wasn't- if I didn't see something with you. I'm not sticking around to use you. I mean, I guess I wasn't b-"

"You know when you were a kid when you spent every day all summer with the same friend- how even though they're your best friend, you get into those stupid fights about nothing by August? Maybe that never really stops. I should have been there for you after all that happened, but I wasn't; I was thinking about myself and how much I wished that we could have been curled up on the couch watching it snow."

"I know, I know. That's all I really wanted; it's all I ever really want." They were quiet for a moment, and Morris saw opportunity open a small window. "Let me take you home. Please? My shift is over in a few hours, and you can sleep in one of the exam rooms until then."

"I don't even have keys to get into my place," she admitted.

"I wasn't talking about your place." Leslie's mouth snapped shut, and she raked her fingers through her hair. Morris thought he saw the tiniest hint of delight sweep over her, but she quickly checked her emotions again, remembering how things had gone the last time.

"I don't know-"

"Let me give you the day that you wanted."

"Just like that?" Her tone was skeptical, but he could tell that a part of her wanted to believe that they could have back those days spent doing nothing but smiling and laughing and holding one another.

"I can't make it up to you in a day, but I can get started. It's a new year; time to start over." A slow smile spread across her face, cheekbones rising up in rosy apples.

"I hate you," she sighed.

"I know," he replied, closing the gap between them and enveloping her, breathing her in.

The door swung open, and Ray pushed in without looking. "Morris, I-" He stopped in his tracks at the sight of the two, frozen before him. "Wow, I- sorry, I didn't- are you guys…?"

Morris looked down at Leslie, who offered a gentle squeeze in response. "Yeah."

"That was none of my business, actually. Whatever I was about to ask- I just- it's not important." He pushed out in the hallway and stood rooted where he was, picturing again all that he had just seen. He shook his head and approached the vending machine, punching in the familiar F5 and retrieving the foil package from the tray. Passing Neela in the hall, he tossed her the candy bar without a word.

* * *

It was a cold gray morning when the two emerged from County General, Leslie still rubbing her eyes. The sky was the color of old bathwater with murky swirls where there should have been soft clouds and absolutely no sign of the sun's shape.

Twice during the drive, he saw her head begin to nod into sleep, only to snap back up. He actually couldn't believe that this moment was happening.

"Give me a running start." In his week of self-loathing and defiant bachelorhood, Morris had managed to undo what had taken nearly a year to mold in the apartment. He thought of the take-out boxes, the comforter and pillows on the couch where he'd fallen asleep watching _Sportscenter_, the dirty laundry, and the dishes on the counter.

"Why? How long do I have to wait here? I've seen your apartment."

"Just humor me."

"Five minutes."

"Ten."

"Two."

"Five it is."

Leslie had no intension of letting him have more than a minute or two's head start. She watched him scamper up the steps to his hallway from where she stood in the entryway. Her feet had actually stopped throbbing the day before, but standing on them for the first time that morning, the pain was acute as she perched on the two bruised balls of her feet. Sighing, she carefully slipped the shoes off and was greeted with the momentary relief of the cold, wet rug beneath her feet.

She paused for a moment to think about what she was doing. Even as she'd swapped shifts and ducked in and out at odd times to avoid him, Archie Morris had been everywhere she was and in her thoughts all the time. Archie made her feel important just for being alive, never mind the accolades or her family tree. She couldn't forget the way he'd felt in her arms as she comforted him on Christmas Eve. He'd melted into her, seeming to grope for the comfort he'd been secretly waiting for all those years and reluctant to let go. His fears- never belonging and no one ever really knowing who he was- were her own. She couldn't forget the desperation in his eyes as she left his car on Chistmas evening, as though he was digging for words that did not exist.

The more she replayed the whole two days in her mind, the more she began to regret judging him for his behavior. His whole reason for wanting to go home was to salvage the threads of a relationship with his father in the name of feeling as though he belonged to something. As he'd revealed himself to her, she had accepted him, embraced him. It had been her understanding, her compassion that had made him see that he was not alone at all. He'd realized that he didn't have to try to belong with her; they just fit together. But in the process of leaving his father, he'd inadvertently alienated himself from her. It must have been so confusing and so very lonely.

Morris was infuriating at times, the way he could be two different people, but if anyone knew about duality of persona, it was Leslie. Inside of the very forced public fascade, there was the real person waiting to come out. It was only when she identified the side of Archie that she liked so much that she realized how much she liked herself around him. He made her feel silly and clumsy and... normal. While everyone expected Leslie to be perfect, they didn't expect much at all from him. Thinking about everything that had happened, it was clear that what he wanted the most was for someone to accept him and to be proud of him and treat him as an equal, as an adult. It was just all too easy to give the people what they wanted, however, than to change their minds. Forget the people; over the past week, it had become crystal clear to her that what she wanted was Archie Morris, and the way that he'd admitted their relationship to Ray had reaffirmed her decision to give things another chance.

Walking mostly on the sides of her feet, the doctor made her way up the steps noiselessly and found his door ajar. There, she stood with her coat folded over one arm and the straps of her shoes dangling from her fingers. She could see him frantically lighting jar candles with one hand and grabbing for magazines strewn on the floor with the other, still wearing his coat. He turned to see Pepper straddling the couch and coffee table to help himself to old pizza crust. "Get outta there!" he hissed. The dog laid his ears back and hopped down, only to jump into a chair at the table and nose into a garbage bag that he'd left stuffed with paper cups and boxes and plastic silverware. Leslie had to laugh, and the dog stopped abruptly at the sound before barreling toward her and dancing around her on his hind legs, stump tail wagging furiously. Archie hastily kicked a _Playboy _out of sight and suddenly felt at a loss for words or action. It was as though she had just caught him with his pants down.

"Let things go a little since the last time I was here?"

Archie snatched the newly forgotten bag off of the table and pulled the strings closed at the top. Finished with his boisterous greeting, Pepper retreated into the apartment again and curled up in a chair while his master hurried over to take Leslie's coat. As he stared at her in the small dress, he seemed to forget what he was doing, where he was. "Um, do you want some coffee or some tea? Maybe um, a sandwich or-"

His voice caught in his throat as she slipped her hands into his pockets and pulled him close to her. His arms fell slack, her coat collapsing in a puddle at their ankles, and he leaned down to kiss her gently. "Just that," she said softly against his lips. She reached up and slid the coat from his shoulders, and he allowed it to tumble to the floor with hers. The two fell into a kiss deeper than the last. She could still taste mint on his lips. His beard grazed her chin and cheek, tickling her and causing her to lift up onto her tip-toes to avoid rubbing the whiskers. At the change in height, Archie wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss.

They stood in the heap of coats in the shadows of the apartment and couldn't have cared less about the time or the fact that he'd just spent the last twelve hours in the depths of a County holiday hell. For the time, they shrugged off the responsibilities and the burdens of their lives and just existed there with each other in the entryway of a cozy Chicago apartment on a dreary New Year's morning.

"Why don't we find you something a little, um, more comfortable?" he asked, sucking a breath from the side of her mouth to clear his head. She nodded and followed him to his bedroom. Their fingers were still woven together loosely, him guiding her. Morris reached into a drawer, fumbling in the dim light to find something thin, something a bit sexier than the old sweats she had usually borrowed. He produced an old button-down shirt with a small burn hole in the sleeve, laying it on the bed for her. As usual, he started to excuse himself to allow her privacy, but unlike usual, Leslie planted herself in front of him. Without a word, she lifted her arms above her head and locked eyes with him.

His mouth was suddenly dry, and it was difficult to swallow, difficult to breathe. _Don't let her feel your hands tremble. _Morris's eyes traveled to the hem of her dress and then back to the smoky green eyes, which also gazed down at the dress before coming back to rest on him. He wanted to savor this all and convince himself that it was really happening. The doctor's hands slipped down the satin over her curves as low as he could reach without stooping. At her mid-thigh, he gathered the fabric and pulled it over her head, letting the delicate dress drizzle to the floor. She stepped forward and pressed herself into him so that his arms instinctually closed around her. The skin that had always been some great mystery to him, hidden beneath t-shirts and scrubs and a hundred outfits was suddenly bare. It was softer than her cheek, smooth and warm.

He was aware of her nails trailing gently from the nape of his neck to the knot of his tie. Leslie slid behind him, reaching around for the tie again to loosen it and untie it. Morris watched her hands work at the top button in his dresser mirror and could feel her body against his back. Her lips were hot on his neck, slowly tracing a path to his earlobe. The slightest tug of her teeth caused him to gasp and turn on her quickly, scooping her into his arms and collapsing backwards onto his bed.

There, Leslie straddled Archie's lap, holding his face in her hands and pressing her lips to his. He'd wanted this- _oh, he'd wanted this-_ but he was suddenly aware of her hands sliding down his neck to his shirt again. _Damn. _He realized that he'd never actually mentioned his… condition before and cursed himself. Most women had never noticed the nipples. Often, he'd gotten away with keeping his undershirt on, or they were simply both too drunk to care. But this time was different; it wasn't a random hookup, and Leslie hadn't a drop of alcohol in her blood. _If she sees you're a freak, it'll be a dealbreaker. _If he could only get the lights off or distract her… She was gently unbuttoning the third button when Archie's hands caught hers, entwining their fingers as she continued to kiss him. "You're not turning shy on me, are you?" she breathed coyly between kisses, her breath warm against his neck. The hair on his arms raised as he shuddered slightly from the chill it had sent through him. Leslie smiled and gently kissed him again. Archie let go of her fingers, and his arms now draped loosely around her waist. He could feel her hands resume roaming up his side.

He peeked out one eye to look for the lamp. It was possibly within reach. His fingers stretched out for the nob, but he couldn't quite get it, and his movement had caused her to sit back for a moment, eyeing him. "What? I just thought I would create a mood," he stuttered quickly.

"I know I'm no knockout, Archie. It's okay if you want the lights out," she murmured. He could only stare at her in disbelief. He ran his hands down the side of her body over a silky smooth strapless bra and hiphugger panties, squeezing her tightly and pulling her so close that he could feel her heart beat against his. He held her at arms length again, sliding his hands into hers. Morris had hoped that his actions would put her at ease and let her know just how powerfully beautiful she was to him, but she still seemed unsure of herself.

"Hey! Leslie, no. I think that you're gorgeous, and I want to know every inch of you. It's just…" Morris trailed. He took a deep breath. "I think _you'd_ actually like the lights off," he finished in a somewhat dejected tone. At this, she cocked her head thoughtfully, momentarily distracted from her own self-consciousness.

"Why? Are you hairy?" she asked, wrinkling her nose playfully and poking him in the sides. Reflexively, his hands pushed hers away, and he shook his head. Her smile faded slightly. "A birth mark?" Again, he shook his head, his eyes lowered now to stare at her hands, watching her nervously tug at her thumbs. She hesitated, biting her lip before slowly leaning into him again, softly kissing him. Her hands had found their way back to his buttons and began working on the second one, gently pulling his shirt open, as the third button gave way.

She could feel him tense, not understanding why he was so afraid to let her near. It only made her want him more, but she couldn't help but think that maybe he didn't want her. Leslie pressed the thought back in her mind, focusing on the buttons. Once she had unbuttoned down to his pants, she gathered the shirt in one hand and pulled the final button to light, continuing to kiss him and cup his face with her other hand.

Feeling the air on his thin undershirt, he curiously opened his eyes, but Leslie's were still closed. Her hand was now reaching for the skin of his abdomen, snaking beneath the fabric. Her palm was warm and soft, and as it slowly began its ascent, Morris closed his eyes again. But she never moved, never paused, never drew in a breath in wonder or disgust. Summoning his courage, he reached for her bra, unsnapping it in one smooth motion. _Wow. You did that like a pro. Wait, is she gonna think you do this a lot? _Leslie pushed Archie's sleeves down, and he helped her by pulling his wrists loose from the cuffs. He shrugged out of his undershirt as she pulled the bottom up over his face between short kisses.

He suddenly realized that there was no more kissing and that her green eyes were watching him. Naked, exposed. All four nipples. _Maybe she doesn't even notice. Are you blushing? You're kidding. How old are you? _Then he noticed her body language. She was rubbing one of her arms, folding it into her lap so her hand rested on the opposite thigh. She glanced at his eyes, but quickly broke contact, staring sideways or to her lap before glancing up again. Leslie felt just as nervous as he did. It made sense; the only real relationship she'd had in years was with a professor, someone who'd used her. But why? How could anyone hurt her? She was so- "amazing," he whispered before inwardly grimacing that he'd said it out loud.

"What?" she asked, searching him. He swallowed before reaching forward to push some stray hair behind her ear. His hand lingered, pressing against one velvety cheek, his thumb caressing the line of her jaw.

"You're perfect," he told her softly. Her lips trembled for a moment, her eyes shining glassily. It had been the right thing to say. For once, the right words had just spilled out, and it hadn't even felt like a line. Leslie wasn't the thinnest or most toned girl he'd been with. She wasn't some pinup girl; she was, well, real. Warm and soft in his arms. She smelled like baby powder and strawberries. And she really was perfect.

Morris nuzzled and kissed her neck, running his fingers up her back and neck and into her hair. He could feel her arch into him, pressing her body against his. Her mouth was a million things; a million amazing things, none of which were registering coherently in his mind. He knew only that she was incredible and that his pants suddenly felt two sizes too small.

Leslie tightened her arms around Archie, letting his beard tickle her skin. He made her feel safe. For once, she felt good enough, but not as though she was settling. She'd known all along about the nipples; Pratt had told her one day when she'd mentioned going out to a piano bar with Morris after a shift. At first, she thought he'd been teasing, but sure, enough, she'd felt them beneath her hands tonight. She'd wondered in the back of her mind, on the chance that it was true, what would they look like? But in the moment, she'd barely noticed. It wasn't about his body; it was about him. The way he'd made her feel. He'd made her accept herself, even love herself. And if he could trust her with his imperfect body, she could trust him.

As he laid her gently on her back, burying his head into her hair and running his hands over her, it felt surreal. Like a moment that she'd always known in the back of her mind but was waiting to remember. The way it should be. The way it always should have been. Leslie turned her head to brush her nose against his cheek, causing him to turn his face to meet hers.

He was rocking a bit, trying to wriggle out of his pants. Leslie smiled, tugging at the thigh with her fingertips and the lower leg with her bare toes. He grunted in exasperation and freed his arm from beneath her to finally pull them loose, looking back at her to see her biting her lip and smiling. "That was supposed to work more like your bra," he told her. He was flushed, partially from the heat between them and partially from the embarrassment.

Goosebumps rose on his arms as her lips contacted his earlobe. "It's okay. You'll have plenty of time to get it right," she breathed, pulling the plug on the lamp and blanketing their bodies in darkness.


	10. Familiar

_A/N: I know that I've been gone for a very, very long time. Believe it or not, I always had an end in mind for this story (actually mostly already written), but I never found a way to really get there before that was interesting and not overly rushed. Since the character filters started coming into use, there's been a bit more interest in a story that I had sort of written off as "dead." Thanks to everyone who left reviews and visited and read this story even though it showed no signs of ever being updated. If you're game to read, I'm game to update now and maybe finally finish what I started. Hope it was worth the wait. Reviews are always appreciated. Soundtrack link available in my profile._

The first months of the new year passed in a whirlwind of something that most people would fail to recognize as "romance," but to Doctors Morris and Thomas, what was flowering in the gray Chicago winter was nothing short of wonderful. It was as though they had picked up where they had left off on Christmas Eve.

In her mind, Leslie was careful not to pretend that it had not taken place. In its own way, it was an important reason why they'd progressed to a new level of comfort. She had seen that she was capable of hurting him, and in that realization, she had recognized how much he had cared for her and been willing to let her be close to him.

By the time that what the nurses referred to as "County General March Madness" really started to bring in some strange patients, Leslie had settled into the ER at County and actually started to feel as though she belonged, even when her colleagues felt like passing the most "interesting" cases onto her...

"I promise you, Mr. Heins. You are not in the midst of a major paranormal…psychological event," Dr. Thomas assured the patient, carefully trying to remember all of the terminology that the patient seated before her had used.

He was a slightly chubby young man of about twenty-two with rectangular glasses perched on his nose, which he pushed up in an arrogant way every time he was about to laugh dismissively at one of Leslie's decidedly "ignorant" questions or comments and launch into some sort of long-winded explanation of evolution or conspiracies or whatever else crossed his mind.

"Oh yeah? Why don't you tell that to the guy behind you. Yeah, he's an older gentleman. Mustache. Some kind of work coveralls. Oh, wait. You can't because he's been _dead_ for twenty years." Leslie pressed her lips together, looking over her shoulder to humor the young man.

"You know, you may be onto something," she replied, scribbling on a chart. "I happen to know someone who has studied these kind of, um… para-para-" The man rolled his eyes.

"Paranormal psychological manifestations."

"Something like that." Leslie had finally seen the light at the end of this boring and strange tunnel and made her way over to the desk. "Frank, can you page Psych? The mother ship is calling Mr. Heins home, if you know what I mean."

"Sure. You've got a visitor in the lounge, Doogie." Leslie hadn't been expecting anyone. With piqued interest, she pushed the door of the lounge open to find a sharply dressed man sniffing a Styrofoam cup of coffee. He was talking to Ray and laughing about something. At the sound of the door, both men turned around.

"Dad?"

The middle-aged man set down the cup with a smile and opened his arms.

"Hi Leelee," he greeted. She walked into his embrace, questions racing through her head.

"Leelee?" Ray asked with a chuckle. She narrowed her eyes over her father's shoulder, shaking her head vigorously and mouthing the word "no."

The Resident gathered up his things and moved toward the door. At a safe distance, he called, "Take it easy, Leelee."

"He seems like a nice guy, that Dr. Barnett." Leslie inwardly cringed at the thought of a whole ER calling her 'Leelee.' No one had called her that since grade school except for her Dad. It had always seemed to her like the older kids' way of poking fun at how young she was. At County, she'd only just begun to move past the whole age hurdle with everyone and didn't need a setback like that.

"He's one of my Residents, Dad. What are you doing here?"

"I can't come see my little girl saving the world every once in a while?"

"Not without a major scheduling project… no," she replied. He laughed, reaching to quiet the buzzing of his Blackberry.

"I wanted to tell you before anyone else did so that you could be ready," he began. Leslie braced herself. She'd been a much younger girl the last time she'd heard this, and he'd told her that he was planning on running for a seat in the House.

"Just don't tell me you're seeking the nomination for President or something," she only half-joked.

"No, no," he laughed. "But someone else is," He proceeded to explain a complicated chain of alliances and friendships and how one of his colleagues had a real shot at the nomination, which would require a serious campaigning push to be possibly rewarded with a high-profile position, perhaps Cabinet. At the very least, he explained, it would be very high visibility and critical in gaining momentum for his reelection campaign.

"So it's game time again?" she asked, recalling the various events and speaking engagements that she'd attended as a young girl in lieu of slumber parties and trips to the movies or the mall.

"I think so. Maybe this time, you might want to be a little more… _active. _I mean, you might like it." Leslie rolled her eyes and saw where this was going. "Baby, all I'm saying is that there are some really great people back in Washington with a lot to say about healthcare, and who better to understand that than you?"

"Dad, I'm just an ER doc." Her father gave a little grimace. "Sorry I know how you hate 'just.' I like my job. I'm not into all that bureaucratic tape. That's you. That's Mom. If I was into all that, I would be a lawyer too."

"There's still some time. Maybe you'll change your mind. Just think about it. In the meantime, you just need to be aware of things and the possible consequences or the ways that people can twist them around on others." Leslie knew where this was going. As a child, she'd been pushed to invite certain friends to the house or birthday parties over others, depending on their parents' political affiliations and the cleanliness of their criminal backgrounds.

"What'd you dig up, Dad?" she asked in a tired tone.

"It's not that we've been _digging_-"

"Who?"

"This guy Kovac. He's got a little bit of a dark past, huh?"

"I don't know. I don't talk about it with my boss," she replied flatly. She knew that he must have another reason for taking time out of her schedule to talk to her in person.

"I don't think it'll matter, but I just didn't want you to be surprised if it comes up." He hesitated for a moment. "There's also this guy you've been hanging around with…"

"You haven't even met him yet. Do you even know his name?"

"Morris. Yeah. Has he told you about some incidents at his boarding school, Leelee?" Leslie sighed.

"He had a rough time as a kid, I think. Yeah. It was _years _ago."

"Never liked the idea of boarding school for you kids."

"No, Dad, because you always wanted us close enough to be watched." The father ignored his daughter, pressing on.

"Well, did you know that Dr. Morris was caught smoking dope in the dormitories? That he was suspended from kicking in a few football games for-"

"I don't want to know this stuff, Dad. This is your campaign. This is your thing. It's never involved me more than a few pictures and an added interest in my school stuff." The Congressman was quiet for a moment before pacing in thought. Leslie could feel her blood cooling, knowing that he was contemplating the most diplomatic way of broaching a very big topic.

"I don't want to have to cover something up again. I know about Gordon Cameron. That could have completely undermined your academic reputation. What were you thinking, sleeping with a professor? You know what? I don't want to know. That's your business. You're right; that is. But what happens, honey, when your business starts becoming questions about how I raised you? About how I lead my family and how that translates to helping lead a country?" Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she wondered just how much her father knew about Gordon Cameron.

She was quiet for a moment, willing herself not to get upset and make a scene. The error in her judgment, though far in her past, would need to be corrected in some way, and she knew that it would involve public appearances and possibly press events. Though her father had been disappointed that she hadn't chosen a career in politics, she knew that he'd been satisfied knowing that he would always have a face for healthcare reform campaigning.

"Do I need to back off of him, Dad?" Panic flooded her mind. _What if he says "yes?"_ Her father dug his hands into his pockets and shook his head thoughtfully. Relieved, Leslie released the breath she'd been holding.

"No, not yet anyways. You just need to know that he's a liability. And if there's anything that I don't know that I need to-"

"You'll hear it from me first," she interrupted, raking her fingers through her hair. A feeling of defeat swept over her, and she knew that her father would always win these sorts of battles.

"That's my girl. Come on. Why don't we get some lunch and catch up? David and your brother are waiting with the car."

* * *

The door to her apartment swung open at eleven a.m., and Leslie Thomas stood in the doorway rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Why are you dressed like that?" she asked, cocking head, her squinting eyes adjusting to the light. Leslie was used to seeing Archie in his slacks and ties, but a suit was a step up- even for him. "Geez, it's cold. Come in."

"I know you just got off," he began. She waved an arm at him as she made her way to her coffee pot, leaning heavily against the counter. "But it's… my dad's getting married today."

"You're really going?" she asked, hugging the steaming mug and sniffing its aroma. She thought of her father doing the same just days before and quickly set the cup down.

"No," he smiled. "I wasn't even invited. I wanted to go see my mom." He was solemn again. Leslie's eyes blinked fully open. "I've never been to see her. Not since the funeral. But it just seemed like she wouldn't want to be alone today."

Morris was hoping that he wouldn't have to ask her to come along. It was a day that he didn't want to spend alone, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to admit how much it bothered him. Carefully, his eyes moved from the floor to her face in order to gauge her willingness. There to meet his gaze was a look that he'd seen in the ER, a comforting softness that was obviously suppressing pity.

"Let me get dressed."

* * *

It was a quiet drive to the cemetary on a dreary day. She couldn't help but feel a little satisfaction from knowing that Jack Morris and his unpleasant bride would be getting married on such a chilly, gray afternoon. Once there, Archie had pored over a small map of the site, trying to decide where exactly Lily Morris was resting. Finally, Leslie pointed it out to him. He seemed apprehensive about the whole thing, but in the end, he left the car a bit faster and with a bit more conviction than she had expected.

Leslie had decided not to go to the grave. Instead, she stood beneath a naked tree about thirty feet away, looking up at its black branches and the patterns that they made crisscrossing to the sky. It was a way of being there and still allowing him his privacy.

The day was cold and windy, as it usually was around this time of year. The ends of her hair whipped around Leslie's face, sticking to her hastily applied lipgloss. She'd hurried to get dressed and look presentable, as this was- in its own way- a first impression on Archie's mother. At least, he probably considered it such.

She dug her hands into her pockets and shifted stiffly from one flat shoe to another, crunching the frozen grass beneath her. Meanwhile, her beau had an inaudible conversation with a green stone. He bent to touch it, removing a glove in order to run his bare hand over the engraving. His breath swirled into the air in intermittent puffs, and he alternated between lowering his head and tipping it back to stare up into the sky. Leslie knew that she was witnessing an intimate moment. While she was happy to be so trusted and needed, there was another part of her that felt uneasy about moments like these. Part of her hated being needed in this way. It was a shameful feeling that she'd been so judgmental of his history with fear of commitment when she was feeling the same fear at present.

Leslie watched him place a rose on the fresh snow. He remained crouched beside the grave, pinching the bridge of his nose and then covering his eyes momentarily with a thumb and finger, before sweeping the hand down over his entire face and tugging on the skin of his jaw. She wanted to reach out to him and pick him up, take him away from here. Day in and day out, she had to deal with death and sadness, and it never bothered her much, but this was all too close for comfort.

The young woman decided to focus her attention on a line of headstones behind the tree. It was a sort of macabre family tree, chronicling the lives of the Miller Family. Three generations, some elderly, some in their prime, a child. _You really never know what life has in store_. She glanced back at Archie, who had stood up and was shuffling away, head turned to look at the stone as he walked. He never spoke to Leslie, merely passing by her on his way back to the car. He'd placed himself in the passenger's seat with the keys in the ignition.

Leslie sat in the driver's seat and hesitated before deciding that it was best not to say anything. She squeezed his knee gently before starting the car and driving back to the city.

At his apartment, he picked up his mail and made his way upstairs without a word. His thoughts had swayed back and forth between two periods of his life- the brief time with his mother and all those years without her. The earliest memories had come first, but the periods were now nearing collision in his mind, and his memories of that last day were flooding back as he opened the door to the apartment.

These were the last moments he would see her face vibrant and glowing with life._ "Wear your sunscreen. I don't want a little lobster scuttling around the house tonight." She made little claws with her hands and pinched the air, smiling before resting them on her belly and rubbing a small circle. _His mind drifted back to that day as the warm air of his apartment hit his face, and he staggered like a zombie to rest his hand on the counter. _He ran past his mother in her sundress, towel over his shoulder, tying his trunks as he went. She laughed and called,_ "_Aren't you forgetting something?" Her porcelain arms spread open for a good-bye hug._

Leslie removed her coat and watched him closely, concern sweeping her features. Her steps were quick as she approached and wrapped her arms around him, coinciding with the memory of the embrace against his mother's firm abdomen. It was as if the present did not exist; all he could see was his mother hugging him tightly and leaning over him. He could still feel her kiss on his bed of red curls. Leslie released him and took his coat, still cold from the outdoors. She was just about to hang it up when she saw his fingers' grip on the mail loosening and his face beginning to turn red.

He felt his face cramp up and the hot tears hit his cheeks. His knees buckled under him, and he knew that it was only seconds before he would be on them. She took hold of him as he collapsed in her arms, hard sobs shaking his entire body. He cried uncontrollably into her neck, wetting the collar of her shirt.

The pain that coursed through his body was more than he'd felt in years. It had literally taken his breath away, hitting hard and fast and mercilessly. No one had ever seen him cry like this. It had been so long; how could the pain be so fresh? _What must she be thinking right now? Stop crying! _

Morris choked and sputtered and clawed at her arms, trying to get away. The humiliation and reality had begun to sink in, and all he wanted was to run away and never have to face her. Leslie only held tighter and rocked him calmly; she was surprisingly strong. After a few tries, he stopped fighting her and gave himself over to the pain. When the last tears had dried, he knew he would eventually have to move. His knuckles were white, and they felt stiff as he loosened their grasp on sweaty fistfuls of her now-wrinkled shirt.

He braced himself for the look on Leslie's face, but he couldn't find the nerve to look at her. He trembled as he sat up further, and her hand moved to accommodate the shift, but she still held him, and he became aware that he was still clinging to her, almost instictively. "I'm sorry," he blubbered in a voice he didn't recognize, fumbling to wipe his nose. To his surprise, she hugged him close again and kissed his cheek, continuing to stroke his hair. For as much as he wanted to run from her, he now felt compelled to stay, to allow someone to care for him.

"No, I'm sorry," she whispered back. Heat pulsed in his chest, and he sank into her at the words. He swallowed and shivered, closing his heavy eyelids for a moment. "Here," she offered, pushing a tissue from her bag into his hand. As he sat forward to blow his nose, Leslie stood to give him some space. When she crouched down again at his side, she had a warm washcloth in hand and wiped the stiff, sticky, dried tears from his face.

He dared to look at her, stealing a quick glance and finding an expression on her face that he hadn't expected to find. It wasn't overly pitied or even slightly embarrassed for him. It was warm and comforting and somehow forgiving. His gaze trailed down to the tissue in his hands.

"You didn't have to come." _But you did. You did. _It was the best he could do to find a way to tell her how much he'd needed all this and appreciated her sensitivity.

"Yes I did. I love you." Now, an embarrassed flush spread over her cheeks. Leslie shrugged her shoulders and twisted the rag in her hands, causing a thin drop of water to trickle down her arm. "I think about you all the time. I ache when I see you upset because I want to make the pain go away. I want to fix it, and I can't."

"You already did." He'd never expected her to say those words; he'd come to expect that no one would ever say them, in fact. He attempted to find a way to respond that was not contrived, but his thoughts were cut short by the sight of troubling body language. Leslie was wringing her hands like someone who instantly regretted blurting out something and wanted nothing more than to erase it.

"Are you hungry? Because I think I'm going to make us some lunch, and-"

"Leslie?"

"-I think I'd like a ham and cheese."

"Leslie!"

"I could also eat turk-" He pulled her wrist hard and kissed her with as much force. "Or we could order in…" They stared at each in silence, though a conversation was clearly taking place in their eyes. Her eyes broke contact first, but only long enough to glance down at his lips and then back up to his gaze. He leaned in slowly now, cupping her cheek and kissing her softly, deeply.

There was something wrong with the moment. It was not the proper time to confess how he felt about her. Not now; not while his focus was still somewhat on his mother and his emotions were wrapped around his family. He hoped that she could feel in his embrace exactly what he'd meant to say, but he just couldn't dig deep enough to find the words to answer her.

"You are… the most unpredictable woman I've ever met." She smiled in surprise before placing a light kiss on his bottom lip. He took a deep breath, and stepped backward, eyes shifting to the kitchen. "All right, you said ham and cheese? Let's get started. Do you like mustard; I'm more into mayonnaise…"

Leslie had stopped listening, trailing along behind him. There was a trace of the smile still faintly on her features, but inside, the smile was gone. She'd been so sure he would admit to loving her back. Today of all days seemed like the one he would use to reach out. He was vulnerable and truly in touch with his emotions for the first time in a very long time, and certainly since she had taken the chance to say it first, Leslie had thought it would slip from his mouth very easily. It wasn't that she had done what she had for him today because she'd hoped it would somehow kill the final bit of his apprehension to tell her how he felt, but still, it had seemed like the best opportunity to break down walls.

She didn't doubt that he had feelings for her, deep-rooted feelings that moved him in ways he had never felt. It was just that sometimes, the insecure parts of her wanted, _needed_, to hear that. After all, she'd been wrong about men's intentions before.

The ham sandwich was tasteless in her mouth as she stared across the table, exhausted both physically and emotionally, and called up something within herself very familiar. It was that happy face that she'd prepared for cameras when she needed to be someone else. It was the face she'd practiced with her mother and brother for so many years, a mask for anything other than full support. Convincing, painful, and familiar.


	11. Click

In Chicago, March had certainly "come in like a lion," so to speak, and had not "gone out like a lamb," leaving April cold and dreary. Today's storm had blown in six hours earlier, just as the shifts were changing. Morris had driven in under the thick black thunderheads, growling warnings, and just knew that they were due for some heavy rain. The air was still, and the temperature change had been perceptible.

In the break room, he'd found Leslie leaning on the window and staring out at the sky. She hadn't needed to turn around to know who had arrived. There was a certain way he always sank onto the couch, as though he needed a moment to gather the mental fortitude for a shift. "It's gonna get ugly," she sighed, turning around and smiling wanly at him. "You sure you couldn't use an extra hand?"

He stood, sauntering over to her and tucking two fingers into the waistband of her green scrubs, tugging her close. "Ask me that question in twelve hours," he purred in her ear, drawing a smirk and playful shove.

"You're gonna be sorry you left your sneakers on my floor," she mused, clucking her tongue at his slacks and dress shoes. Before he could respond, a deafening clap of thunder sounded, and the lights flickered momentarily. "On that note, page me if it gets crazy."

"Come on; there's nothing Lockheart and I can't handle."

She raised an eyebrow and gave him a look that said clearly "I'll remember that." With a quick peck on the cheek, she was out the door without another word.

"You underestimate me!" he called.

* * *

The doors to the ER slid open, and everyone gripped the edge of the gurney with extra strength, already knowing what was ahead. The nurses' shoes sloshed through the puddles remarkably well. Archie, however, mostly slid over the tile, relying on the gurney to keep him upright.

"Frank, how're we coming on that mop, huh?" he called as the group turned the corner. Blowing rain was bringing in gallons of water each time the doors opened, and it had created a slick of mud and grease. The janitors couldn't seem to keep up on their normal rounds.

"He woke up this morning, and he said he couldn't move his neck. He started screaming when I tried to get him out of bed, and then I noticed the fever. I mean, he's been complaining about these headaches for a couple days, but I didn't think it was anything. His mother lets him go crazy with the soda, so I thought maybe it was not having the caffeine."

"We'll take good care of Zach, Mr. Hollis. All right, Ray, what do you think?"

"Sounds like it might be meningitis. Need a blood culture, spinal to rule it out."

"Good. Take a history and check back with me." Morris skated his way back to the desk to take a look at the board. Thunder sounded again, and the lights flashed once more. _Please stay on._ There was a collective sigh of relief at the desk and in the waiting room as the lights returned to full illumination.

"Hey Dr. Morris," Hope began, "There's some weird guy over in curtains who's asking for Dr. Thomas. Says he always sees her. He's got a pretty extensive chart." He took the chart from Hope's hands, already knowing who he would find.

"Mr. Heins," he greeted. "You know, Dr. Thomas is off; I figured your little spirit guides would have told you that. So you get the equally lovely Dr.-"

"She's always here on Wednesdays," he interrupted, with a shove to his glasses. "And you know, I don't receive any information as trivial as scheduling changes from higher beings. It's a very troubling environment here, a very chaotic place. It's just crowded and overwhelmed with energy; I can barely focus on my own. There's this annoying little man; he's bald and he's telling me about how this place can be on days like this. I think he's missing an arm…" Morris leaned over and retrieved a stack of photocopies and digital news articles from a wet backpack, the first prominently featuring the late Dr. Romano's face and a detailed story about a helicopter crash.

"Did he look something like this- the voice from the Great Beyond?" His patient looked a bit flustered, snatching the damp papers hastily.

"You really shouldn't make light of the deceased, Mr. Heins," Hope chimed in. Morris had heard several stories from Leslie about this particular patient's need for attention. He usually claimed to be receiving psychic messages, but it always seemed to coincide with a news article or some kind of research he'd done. Often, he even brought the research with him, seemingly unable to contain himself when he had a new story to waste everyone's time. Leslie found it to be an amusing break in her day; however, she seemed to be alone in that view.

"Where _is_ Dr. Thomas? You know, you should take notes from her. Quite clever. Very in tune with her own potential. Very interested in the truth and accepting of the existence of pa-"

"Yeah, yeah. Well it seems that Psych can't ever find it in their hearts to keep you, so I'll just have to send you back out into the Twilight Zone if you can't come up with something that falls into the realm of actual medicine."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand the seriousness of my ailments and the enormous burden that I bear as a result. I'm sorry I came here in the presence of such ignorance and refusal to accept an evolutionary truth." He stuffed the papers into his bag and hurried away.

"Don't we normally try to stop people from leaving?" Hope asked.

"Not him. He's not homeless, and nobody has diagnosed anything wrong with him other than a need for attention from _my_ girlfriend," he sighed.

Morris reached down to remove a paper from where it was stuck to the bottom of his shoe, only to find the same photo of Dr. Romano. It left an unsettling feeling that made his skin crawl. He could still recall the sharpness of the Rocket's voice as he'd sent him back in to sit at the desk. Just a moment later, a helicopter would tumble into the street, sending the very place he'd where he'd just been toking up into a burst of flame and twisted metal.

It could have easily been his young, goateed face plastered next to the news article, or maybe no photo at all, just a brief blurb. He'd been just an unimportant slacker Resident. The thought made a shiver run through him. Quickly, he wadded the paper into a ball and threw it into the trash, busying himself with a new trauma coming through the doors.

* * *

The day was spiraling out of the control of the staff of the ER. Gurney after gurney lined the halls, and patients sat backed up in the waiting area. It was all Morris could do to direct traffic as more and more patients flooded in. Power had been going out throughout the city, and with it, there had been more accidents and more people seeking heated sanctuary inside the doors of County.

A frazzled woman had just pulled up, running frantically into the waiting room with Archie at her heels.

"Where is he? Where's Zach? My son!? Where is he?" As the door opened up for a patient to come through, the woman saw her chance and darted through. Morris attempted to catch her, but his feet slipped out from under him, and he slid backwards, head smacking the damp tile. With the wind knocked out of him, breathing was momentarily a struggle.

A man from close by chuckled, "Bout time one of them got what was coming, keeping them floors all slick as snot like that. If somebody's gotta fall, I'm glad it's him and not me."

"Are you okay?" a familiar voice asked. He blinked and saw a blurry outline above him. Cold water dripped onto his face.

"Leslie?" he choked in his throat as air filled his lungs.

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry," she apologized as she wrung the ends of her hair out. Her chilly hands slid under him, supporting his head as she helped him to his feet. "I saw you go down from outside. Nobody helped you, huh? Long wait, I guess?" she asked, a sympathetic smile greeting him as he blinked again and looked at her.

The rain had blown into her face, making any attempt at makeup futile. She looked young and pale, but she was certainly the most welcome sight he'd seen all day.

"Not to be petty, but I warned you about those shoes," she teased as she supported his weight stumbling through the door. She pulled a pair of sneakers from her bag, dangling them before him proudly.

"Hey, watch your step, Doogie. It's like _Risky Business _out there," Frank chuckled.

"Oh man, I _wish_an 80s Tom Cruise would come sliding through those doors in just his shirt and tighty whities," Chuny said dreamily, staring at the waiting room.

"Thank God," Abby sighed at the sight of the additional help, erasing more patients off the board. "Drop Morris into the break room and grab some charts."

"Is it getting any better outside?" he groaned, rubbing the back of his head. Her laugh was an unsettling response, and he cursed to himself as he slumped over on the couch for the second time today. It was embarrassing to fall down in front of a room full of patients who hated his guts; it was quite another level of humiliation to eat it in front of her.

Something dropped onto his chest with a quiet thud, and he reached up to feel familiar leather and nylon of his beloved sneakers. His arms reached sideways to hug her legs in gratitude.

"I thought you could use those. Looks like I was a minute too late, though. You know, no one's going to appreciate your muddy, soaked back all over the furniture. You're pretty messy," she added, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

The door opened up, and Sam leaned inside. "Morris, Ray's looking for y- Geez, what happened to you?"

"It's okay. Tell Ray I'll be out in a few minutes," he grunted. It was enough to appease the RN, and she left them without another word. Leslie was crouched before him, her elbow resting on the arm of the couch. She looked half-amused, half-concerned.

"You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine; the only thing bruised is my ego," he assured her. As he stood, however, he winced and rubbed his behind, adding, "Okay, and a couple other areas."

"I brought you some lunch when you get hungry," she offered. At the mention of food, he perked up.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, leaning in to kiss her. "Is it still gonna be good four days from now when we finally get all these patients discharged?"

* * *

"Spinal fluid came back negative for meningitis," Ray reported, handing a file to Morris.

"_Negative_? Are you sure they didn't screw up the labs? Did you get a good sample?" he asked, flipping through the paperwork.

"Archie, I'm positive. The kid came back negative. Blood work and the spinal fluid." _Negative. But it all fits. The headaches, the fever, the nausea, the stiff neck and muscle weakness…_

"Did you check out the brother?" he asked, looking at the second boy standing at his brother's bedside. Beyond them, the boys' parents stood ten feet apart, silent and brooding. "What's the story with them?" He turned to his Resident.

Mr. and Mrs. Hollis were going through a rough divorce and were currently in the midst of a bitter custody battle for their sons. They were taking turns keeping the boys on alternating weeks, an arrangement that had left Mr. Hollis feeling… less than thrilled. He claimed the boys' mother was mentally unstable and that she was prone to erratic behavior. They'd returned from a week with their mother with Zach complaining of headaches, and Mr. Hollis had just received a call from the school asking why the boys had missed so many days.

"They're keeping it together since we threatened to have them escorted out, but something's going on there." Morris raked his hair back in frustration. He hated mystery cases like these. Worst of all, there was a kid involved. Children twisted the knife that cases like this drove deep inside of him.

"Did you get a CT?"

"I'm waiting. It's pretty backed up,"

It didn't seem that the boy could wait much longer. His stats had been falling since he had arrived, and neither doctor was any closer to diagnosing the problem. Both doctors' heads snapped sideways as the sound of warning signals rang out.

"He's seizing!" They rushed into the room. Instantly, both parents were frantically hovering over the doctors, leaving the fight momentarily. Their other child, meanwhile, had backed out of the room unnoticed. Terrified, he hadn't been watching where he was going and had nearly knocked Dr. Thomas over. Instinctively, she reached out to him, clutching his shoulders. The boy winced and sucked air between his teeth, reaching up to grab his right shoulder.

Dr. Thomas knelt down to pick up the file she'd been carrying and noticed that the child had momentarily stopped his flight through the ER and was now looking her over with a mix of interest and skepticism.

"Are you _really _a doctor?" he asked bluntly. She nodded slowly, and one of the boy's eyebrows arched in further doubt. "You look more like a babysitter."

Leslie glanced down at her "street clothes"- a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. She really had no retaliation; he was probably right. Instead, she was drawn to red skin visible at the neck of his shirt.

"Hey, what's wrong? Does your shoulder hurt?" At this question, he looked somewhat startled, hunching into his sweater cautiously. "It's all right. Let's go in here, and I can take a look. What's your name?" His dirty sneaker rubbed kicked the wheel of a gurney, absently.

"Taylor."

Offering the child her hand, she led him into an exam room and seated him. His small hands nervously picked at a piece of tape on the pad of an exam table. Leslie slowly peeled back the neck of the boy's sweatshirt to reveal bright red skin giving off substantial heat.

"Wow! Where'd you get a sunburn, Taylor? Did you get to go somewhere fun on spring break?" The boy shook his head shyly, eyeing the doctor suspiciously. "Well, you gotta tell me where you hang out because it's a lot sunnier and probably a lot more fun than it is around here."

The corners of his mouth drew into a small smile, but he remained silent. She thought about pressing the matter further, but decided that it probably wasn't worth it.

A tall man with dark hair burst suddenly through the door and sighed with relief at the sight of the two of them.

"Jesus, there you are. Don't run away like that, Taylor! I had no idea where you were! I'm sorry about this Doctor," the man apologized.

"Sorry," the boy mumbled, hopping to the floor to follow the man. Leslie shook her head. "_You look more like a babysitter." From the mouths of babes…_

* * *

"Chuny, have you seen Morris?" Leslie asked. She scrubbed another patient off the board and stood back to assess things for a moment. It wasn't completely unusual that she had gone the length of his shift without seeing him, but because the ER had been so busy, she had at least noticed.

"Probably still with the Hollis boy. They're just over there," she replied, pointing absently.

She peered into a dim room and saw Morris standing at a bedside. He was quietly talking to a woman, and he kept also turning to a figure in the corner. She hesitated, but decided to slip into the room. For a moment, all eyes turned to her, and when she stared back, she felt her blood run cold. It was the same man from earlier. Dark hair, solemn, tired eyes. And there, in the bed, was the young boy who had been so vibrant just hours earlier.

Realizing that everyone was staring expectantly, she cleared her throat and said unsteadily, "Uh, when you get a minute…" before excusing herself to the hallway.

Morris had been hoping she would stay. He was running out of things to say. Hours had passed since the Hollis boy had slipped into a coma, and he and Ray were still struggling for answers. Thankfully, the parents had agreed to play nice in order to stay at their son's bedside, and they asked to be alone with him. He breathed a sigh of relief as he hit the hallway, as though he'd been drowning in the exam room.

"What happened to that kid?" she demanded.

"Huh?" His eyes were heavy and red with exhaustion, but still, they seemed somewhat glad to fall on the sight of Leslie.

"Taylor. He- he had a sunburn. He almost knocked me over like four-five hours ago." Morris stared blankly at her before he realized what she was talking about.

"Oh, no. That's Zach. Zach Hollis. You must have seen the twin." She looked somewhat relieved and then saw his charts in Archie's hand. He followed her gaze and offered them out to her. "Yeah, sure. Here."

Inside, he felt defeated. His shoulder had found its way to the wall without his noticing, and he was now leaning and staring into space, numb. The sound of pages flipping drew him back to reality. Neck craning to see what she was looking at, he saw that it was notes from the history page.

"This is wrong. Where's Taylor? This history, this is wrong," she murmured. He was suddenly more attentive, wondering what he possibly could have missed. "These kids weren't in Chicago last week," she was saying, mostly to herself.

"What? He's um, he's with Timmy I think. Getting Jell-o or something."

"I need to talk to him right now." When she was thinking, both to herself and aloud, Leslie had a tendency to withdraw to a different state of mind. She was methodical. More cold. Focused almost to a fault on her thoughts. It was as though her brain was searching for something hidden within the recesses. He clutched her arm for a minute, shaking her.

"Damn it, Leslie! I've been working on this kid for hours. What is it?" She pursed her lips, as though it was something so obvious, and she was trying not to scream in frustration.

"My kid had a sunburn. It's been raining and cold in Chicago since…since I can remember, Archie," she stammered, exasperated. He still had no idea what she was talking about, but it was suddenly a moot point, as she'd seen Timmy and Taylor come off the elevator down the hall. She ran to them, crouching quickly at the boy's side.

"Taylor, _where _did you get the sunburn?" she asked urgently. His eyes were fearful and darted quickly between the doctors. She reached for his hands to prevent him from running.

"It's a secret," he mumbled. "If I told you, she said we can't go back there." His mouth suddenly clamped shut as though he'd said something he instantly regretted. Leslie took another breath and tried to project a calm vibe. Beside her, Morris was teeming with curiosity and the feeling that he was about to have a breakthrough. If she could just get him to talk…

"This is a pretty bad sunburn. You must have been swimming, right?" He nodded slowly. "_Right?_" He hesitated, tears swimming in his eyes.

Though he wanted to hear exactly what the boy had to say, Morris had finally pulled back from the situation enough to see that Leslie had him cornered and was probably scaring him. The paternal instincts began to rise, and he decided it was time for her to ease up.

"Leslie," he began in a cautionary, firm voice. At the interruption, however, Leslie freed one hand from Taylor and grabbed Archie's leg, squeezing firmly to silence him. Her intensity never wavered. Her focus never shifted; she never even batted an eyelash.

"I always forget to redo my shoulders with the lotion at the lake." Now she was onto something. _What's she got?_

"Lake?"

"Yeah, it's got a funny name. We-we go there sometimes in the winter- my mom and Zach and me. We see my aunt and uncle." The boy was speaking slowly, but was beginning to relax into a cautious conversation, nervously chewing his lip between responses.

"But not your dad?" The boy's eyes widened, and his head shook vigorously.

"Oh, no! He says we're not supposed to leave Chicago right now. But it was okay. Nothing happened, and we came right back on time. He's not supposed to know. You can't tell!" Taylor was speaking quickly now, and his sentences were hastily running together. This was it; this was what he'd been guarding.

The blood in Leslie's veins turned cold. There was something familiar about all of this. It was as though she'd lived it once, but she couldn't remember a case from her residency that matched this. _Med school. Was it a case study? A journal article…_

There was a stillness as the child wiped his face on his sleeve and eyed her over a blue striped arm. Emotionless, and yet riveted, she thought very carefully about her next question. The pieces were beginning to fall into place. Somehow, her mind was leading her to the diagnosis almost unconsciously.

"Are you a good swimmer? Is Zach a good swimmer?" The boy seemed once again a bit more at ease at this question; it had been posed innocently enough.

"Oh yeah. Zach's real good. He can dive and everything." Leslie forced an encouraging smile.

"That's great. You know, I never liked putting my face in the water..."

"Me either. But Zach- he can do backflips and all that stuff." _Click. _She was already on her feet and hurrying to the computer at the admit desk.

Morris watched her in fascination as her fingers danced over the keyboard. He'd heard the same responses she had, and he was trying to pinpoint exactly what she might have been thinking, but he just couldn't extract anything in particular. She'd found what she had been looking for, and now, Leslie cocked her head to the side as she read. Her eyes narrowed and widened, darting back and forth over the information as she scrolled.

"Naegleria fowleri?" Ray asked, reading over her shoulder.

Leslie gave her head a little shake and took a deep breath, looking for all the world like she had just regained control of her body. She cleared her throat. "It's, um, it's an amoeba that lives in warm standing water. The mom took the kids swimming- probably around Lake Havasu or something. Nobody knew."

"Well, what can we do? What…" Ray was scanning the page, but Leslie had already stepped back from the screen.

Morris felt like he'd been hit with a load of bricks. He'd never even considered that the kids could have been exposed to anything like that. It had been a sort of neurological witch hunt, picking and digging for anything. It made him angry that she'd been able to find this so effortlessly. How could she have known? How could she do things like this when she'd been practicing medicine for so little time? He forced himself not to think about this. It really wasn't about him or Ray or Leslie. Now, it was about finding the right way to speak to the family and give them as much information as possible in a meaningful, firm, simplified way. He hated this part, but it was a bitter reality. With a heavy heart, he exchanged a knowing look with Ray and turned to look at Dr. Thomas, but she was already gone.

* * *

Years of time spent with grieving families had thickened Archie's skin, and over time, he'd been able to relatively detach himself from the personal feelings associated with losing patients. Today had been a different sort of situation entirely. He'd failed to pick up on key elements of the case, and though there probably was not anything more he could have done for Zach Hollis- as the neurological damage was already too severe- he couldn't help but feel as though he'd suffered a setback of sorts.

The fighting between the parents hadn't ceased, not even when he'd explained that their son would not be waking up. There had been the rage over the lie that Mrs. Hollis had told, the secret that Taylor had kept, the neglect of both parents to truly understand how pained their son must have been. Ray and Morris had just sat before them, unable to get a word in, deafened by the argument that never seemed to quiet, even for a moment. It was terrible, he thought, that even in losing a son, they were unable to think of anyone but themselves. The same selfish debate that had perhaps spawned the entire awful thing was still raging on without any sign of an end.

He remembered the look on a grief-stricken Taylor's face as Leslie took him to talk to social workers. His heart went out to the boy, knowing that he would probably always feel some amount of guilt over it all, just as Archie could not let go of at least a bit of his own guilt over the death of his mother. Neither was to blame; things just happen for unexplained reasons. And yet, the mind searches for connections, patterns, logic behind that which has no logic.

He wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep and pretend that this all had ended differently, perhaps never even happened at all. It would be wonderful if he could just walk out the doors of County General and turn into someone else. On any other day, he might. He might walk out with Leslie on his arm and become a laughing, carefree lover. He might lie naked next to her and forget that anything else existed. But not today. Today, Leslie was part of that unfortunate chain of reason that his brain was struggling to build.

_Damn. _He saw her standing by his car, cellphone pressed to her ear. Morris had really been hoping to avoid speaking to her or seeing her at all. She snapped the phone shut and smiled in relief.

"I couldn't find you. I was hoping I would catch you. Nick called; the power's out at my place, and I was hoping to maybe crash with you."

"And what if my place is dark?" he asked flatly.

"Maybe we could get a fire going? Maybe even heat up some water on the stove and take a bath by candlelight?" He stared at her over the top of the car, keys in hand, and wondered how she could smile and even fathom sex after the day they'd had. She bit her lip and hopped a little. "Aren't you going to unlock the car? It's cold."

He looked at the remote in his hand and hesitated before pushing the "unlock" button. The headlights flashed, and the car made a familiar noise.

"I still don't get it. I don't get you, Leslie. You turned into some kind of robot in there. I mean, that should have bothered you. You scared some poor kid half to death like he was being interrogated, only to churn out some crazy diagnosis about brain-eating microorganisms. I mean, I thought that Heins guy was weird, but maybe you guys are X-Files loving peas in a pod. Nothing about this should have given you satisfaction." He finally remembered to breathe, but he didn't look at her, instead staring at the steering wheel, hands clinching the leather tightly.

"There was nothing we could do. How many times do you need to hear that, Archie? Sometimes, there's nothing we can do. You know, if I overanalyzed everything, if I sat wondering what I could have done that wouldn't change the outcome but would have maybe just been a more pleasing means to end, I would never sleep, Archie. I would turn out to be some kind of middle-aged, lonely person living with my dog and desperately seeking to fit in and make people like me and-"

He knew that she was digging at him. Leslie was fully aware that Morris had insecurities about making friends and being likable. He knew that she would have probably gone on and on to describe all of his shortcomings, and tonight, he just couldn't handle it.

"You know that you could have been more prudent about the way you handled that. If you knew what the endgame was all along, you didn't have to give that kid the third degree, and you didn't have to make it out to be somebody's fault. They were already divorcing. They were already losing their child. You didn't have to make it into some morbid game."

He heard her breathing in wet sniffs through her nose and felt a slight pang of guilt.

"You're right; I will never have your bedside manner," she sighed with a derisive snicker. "I didn't get this far because I was smart, Archie. I have a good memory, a mind like a mousetrap. It was a chance thing that I read an article about an exceedingly rare case, but I did. And I thought at least it would give everyone closure to know what it was that was killing that boy. I'm sorry it wasn't me that was working with Ray so maybe we could have made him more comfortable. But even if it was, I wouldn't have seen the sunburn. I wouldn't have known those kids were out of the state. And I would have done the same things you did and made the same calls. It's done. It's _over_." She sat up a little straighter and wiped her eyes with a certain resolve.

"It's over," he repeated, starting the car. The only sound was the deep, smooth rub of the windshield wipers intermittently sliding a thin sheet of water away. _Flip-flap...flip-flap... _He drove home in the dark drizzle trying not to think at all. It had been a while since he'd last slept, and he was determined to make it to his place and drift off before he could start any more heated arguments or say anything that he might regret later. _Flip-flap...flip-flap..._

_A/N: A while back, I read a health news article that formed the medical background of this chapter. I'm not a doctor or nurse myself, so I apologize for any mistakes that I may have made in the science involved. It also took me longer than expected to draft a version that satisfied me in terms of action, character involvement, and a pivotal turn in the relationship between Archie the maturing doctor and Leslie the overachiever. I'm still not sure I'm totally satisfied and may come back to rework a few things. Reviews are welcome and appreciated. Soundtrack link available in my profile._

* * *


	12. Naked

_A/N: I realize that almost three months without an update is pretty unforgivable, but thanks for checking in! I promise next time, the wait will be shorter. All the transitions from point A to point B have had me really blocked at times, but I think things are starting to work themselves out. Soundtrack link available in my profile._

"Pressure's down to 90. Let's go with the central line. Sir, do you have any pain in your belly? Here? Here?" Morris pressed gently on the man's abdomen and was met with a sharp wince and involuntary movement, but he seemed to be less lucid than he'd been just moments ago emerging from the ambulance.

Around him, Neela and the nurses were carefully moving the patient from a backboard.

As he continued to give instructions, Morris caught sight of the man's wife in the hallway, holding a toddler on her hip and bouncing her worriedly. The warning sounds of monitors around him brought him back to the moment.

"V-fib. He's bleeding into his belly," Neela announced.

"Okay, crash cart, thoracotomy tray. Prep the chest. 10 blade. Page cardio," Morris called.

"Plasma's on its way," Sam called hanging up the phone.

"Need help in there?" Leslie asked from the adjacent room as she snapped off an old set of latex gloves.

Morris looked over his glasses at her. "Ribspreader. Leslie, the wife, please." He gave a nod in the direction of the door.

"I can take her, Archie," Sam replied. It had been several months since the bizarre neuro case that Leslie had taken over with a little less sensitivity than standard protocol, but the ER staff had not let her forget it. The nurses had consistently jumped between family and Dr. Thomas, and other doctors had volunteered for the more sensitive cases to protect the patients from mishandling.

"Sam, Dr. Thomas has got it," Archie replied firmly. Though initially he'd been angry about the way she had descended on his case and just as quickly checked out, Morris couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Just when she had been earning everyone's trust, a decidedly fluke case had disrupted it all, and everyone seemed to be using it as their excuse to continue to harbor a grudge. It was as though they'd been looking for a reason that her accelerated education had failed her, and this was it- her lack of experienced bedside manner and the ability to separate the intrigue of medical mystery from the humanity. "Leslie?"

She nodded quickly and made her way to the hall, gently guiding the woman and crying child away. The wife was frantically asking questions and trying to control her crying.

"I told him to wait for his dad before he started working. He surprised us and bought our first home, but it needed a lot of work. Lots of things to replace. Floorboards," she sobbed. Leslie, who was holding the couple's daughter on her lap, moved the child so that she could reach out to the woman. She flipped the page of the children's book she had propped up for the little girl and then sympathetically shifted her attention back to the woman. "When my father-in-law called me to say that he couldn't get in, and Eric wasn't answering his phone, I just knew something had happened. The paramedics said he fell through the second floor, and that the debris and tools fell on top of him!" she wailed.

The patient's father joined the women soon after, and he asked a few questions but mostly paced. Neither the wife nor the father made any attempt to remove the baby from Leslie's lap where she had fallen asleep. The Attending wondered what sorts of traumas she was missing or how jammed Chairs had gotten, but decided that if she was needed, someone would have come to find her. And so, accepting this as her most critical need in the ER, Dr. Thomas set out to do the best she could to console the family, even if it meant just sitting beside a wife, reassuring a father, holding a child.

* * *

Archie wrapped his arm around her bare shoulder and felt her snuggle closer into the crook of his arm. There had been mostly silence between them since he'd come into that private waiting room with a grim expression. It was all Leslie had needed to see to know that the toddler in her arms would never again play with her father.

"You're thinking what you would have done differently to save him, aren't you?"

Leslie propped herself up in alarm and stared at Archie, who avoided her eyes. He was tired, but there was no way he could sleep. He'd felt her distance herself almost immediately during the day, and he knew that she was inwardly critiquing his actions. He'd made split-second calls, done all he could. Before Leslie, he'd been able to remove himself from difficult days, but ever since she'd come into his life, he always found himself wondering if he'd made mistakes, mistakes that she would not have made. What would she have seen? How gutsy would she have been?

"No," she gasped. "That's what you think? You think I'm always looking over your shoulder and questioning your calls? That I somehow think I'm…_better_ than you?" She shook her head and stood, wrapping the sheet around herself as she made her way to the window, where the last of the summer sun was fading into night.

With all the emotion surrounding the case today, he'd been momentarily removed by that initial sight of Leslie and the child. He'd never seen her so quiet, so still. The image was enough to send a tingle through his body, a tiny hope that he might see her again just this way. It had been fleeting, as she'd quickly noticed him, and shaken him back into reality. Now, she was a stark contrast to that earlier image. Frustrated, animated.

"Then what?" he asked, sitting up. Leslie turned, her mouth a tight line. She stared at him.

"Seeing those cases, don't you ever think… don't you ever think that some day, it'll be our turn? One day, you could leave, and it would be the last time I would ever see you," she murmured, clutching the sheet to her chest.

_Wow, you're a jerk. _Morris felt himself being crushed by guilt. All along, he'd mistaken Leslie's distance for judgment, when it had been anything but that. He watched in disbelief as a tear slid along her nose, hitting the corner of her mouth before she pushed it away with the heel of her hand. Archie rose up out of bed and quickly closed the distance between them.

"I know what you were doing today, too; I know you're trying to show people I can do my job," she sniffed. "But I don't need saving." She straightened up and sniffed again. Morris offered her the edge of the sheet, drawing a soft chuckle out of her, and she allowed him to brush it over her face to dry the tears.

"I know you don't. You don't _need _anything, but the day you do is the day I've failed you."

Leslie's expression flickered for a moment as she thought of how much she'd felt she needed to hear him say "I love you." She wondered if he was at all aware of this, but she decided to once again let it go. Maybe saying the words had just been a brash move on her part after all, caught up in a moment.

"You know, you're standing naked in front of a window," she reminded him, using one side of the sheet to drape around him and cover him.

"Well, what do you expect? You're a self-proclaimed blanket hog," he replied. "And you remember what you told me to do if you stole the covers…" He smiled mischievously as a look of recognition came over her.

"You wouldn't," she challenged with a surprised laugh, as she took a precautionary step away from him and the window. He raised an eyebrow and lunged for the sheet, drawing a squeal and laugh in response. And it was so good to hear her laugh.

He grabbed one end of the sheet from her and spun into it until their bodies were wrapped up together, but the motion caught Leslie off-balance, and she toppled to the floor, Archie right behind her. They lay tangled in the sheet gasping for breath between laughs.

"Are you okay?" he groaned, smiling at her. She nodded, unable to speak. They'd landed just a few feet from Pepper's bed, and the dog eyed them groggily.

"Look at him; he's judging you," Leslie breathed, smiling at the dog, but when her gaze shifted back to Morris, she found him staring at her, his expression once again solemn. "What?" she asked.

He shook his head and ran his fingers through her hair, his thumb running the length of a thin white line on one side of her forehead. Her eyes shifted up diagonally to stare in the direction of his touch, but she quickly looked back with narrowed eyes

"Thought you said I wouldn't have a scar," she teased with a smirk. Morris smiled gently, but he couldn't help but feel a hint of the same paralyzing fear he'd felt that day sitting in traffic, waiting for the reassurance that he hadn't lost her, but fearing the worst. He never wanted to feel that way again. The words were thumping inside of him; he could feel them in his throat.

A line creased the space between her eyebrows as concern set in. She asked him if he was all right, thinking that he might have been hurt a little more than he'd let on by the tumble they'd both taken. He didn't reply, instead tangling his fingers with hers.

"You're the only person I could ever laugh with after a day like today," he sighed, kissing the top of her head. The concern melted, and she agreed, resting her head on his chest. She could hear his heart beating, and her fingers tapped the rhythm on his forearm. Lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, he could feel her taps increasing in speed, and knew that she had to have noticed also. Slowly, he drew his arm away from her and sat up, pulling her into his lap to face him, nose-to-nose. He slid his cheek along on side of her face until his lips were nearly touching her ear, his hands pressing lightly on her back. Together, they sat very still, with the ceiling fan making the only noise in the room.

"I love you." They hadn't sounded much like he'd planned at all. Archie stiffened at the words, laced with emotion and sat back from her to gape in surprise. It had been her voice, not his, that had seized the moment. Tears were once again spilling down her cheeks, but she made no effort to push them away. He stared at her, feeling his body grow hot and tight. "Say something," she whispered.

_Tell her that you love her too. No! Wait, that sounds so forced. That doesn't sound like I mean it, but I do. God, do I! I was going to say it, wasn't I? I've wanted to say it a million times, but I didn't think… _Panic began to set in as he realized that she was waiting for some kind of response, and what had started out as a look of hope was now quickly plummeting into worry and fear and embarrassment. She lowered her head and attempted to stifle a sob, but as his hands reached out to her, she pushed them away.

"Leslie-"

"It's okay! I just… didn't understand, that's all. But now, I do." The moment was so quickly running away from him, getting out of hand. Archie wanted to stop her, wanted to set her straight once and for all that he'd known for so long how he'd felt about her, but that he couldn't just tell her on the couch eating pizza or in the shower after work, could he? These things required a certain moment, didn't they?

She tried to stand up, face flushed red in mortification, but he pulled her back down. Scowling, she tried again, to no avail. Leslie was about to retaliate, opening her mouth to blast him with angry words, but he covered it with his own, kissing her deeply. He dared to end the kiss, lips still inches from hers, hand still cupping her face.

"It's the only way I know to make you quiet," he breathed. She sucked in a breath, preparing to speak, but he kissed her again quickly, softly. As he drew his lips back a few inches, a gentle laugh escaped his throat, and he shook his head ever so slightly. "I hate you, but only because I love you so much, and you make me so crazy." Leslie placed her hands over his at the sides of her face and pushed away from him enough to look him in the eye.

"Really?" she sniffed, unconvinced.

"Leslie, I've been trying to tell you since Christmas, but you've taken or ruined every good opportunity I had!" She looked taken aback, but the more she thought about it, the more she supposed that he was right. "I love you," he whispered, staring into her eyes.

Few times in his life had ever humbled him quite like this. She could have easily written it off as a line, or something he felt compelled to say in order to coerce her into staying, but one look at her knew that she hadn't interpreted it that way. That somehow, she'd believed him.

They found their way back into bed and laid staring at one another, not unlike the first night she'd spent at his apartment. Morris couldn't control the goofy grin that had spread across his face so widely that his cheeks hurt. Just months before, there had been such a huge hole inside of him, a place where there should have been family and friends and a companion, a hole so vast and so empty for so long that he had thought it hopeless to ever begin to fill it. And suddenly, it felt complete, a "whole" of a different sort. _I don't know if I believe in soulmates, but this girl- this crazy, stupid, amazing girl- challenges me and cuts me and heals me in a way I've never known. She gets to me and gets me._ _The best friend I've ever known. I want her in every way a person can want._

Upon hearing the words she'd longed to hear for so many months, Leslie realized that nothing had really changed at all between them, that those "magic" words had been there all along, just unspoken. He'd always looked at her with that same admiration. And yet, she'd always felt a certain underlying element, a sort of itch beneath the soothing calm of his gaze. It must have been longing, she decided, longing to feel as close as he'd dreamed of being to another person, even if he hadn't been aware of it. To feel needed, to feel a sense of belonging. _You belong with me._

Belonging… Her thoughts shifted to her family and a recent "request" that her father had made. The shift in thought must have translated to the physical because Archie leaned toward her and brushed her hair back from her face.

"What are you thinking about?" She hesitated for a moment, not wanting to change the mood from the wonderful serenity that had overcome them. He knew something was on her mind, though, and there was no use trying to hide it.

"I need to go back home to Iowa for a few days next week," she murmured. "It's State Fair time, and Dad loves for the family to be together." Archie was a little stung by the mention of 'home' still referring to Iowa, but it was a minor thing, not worth thinking about, he supposed.

"I could go with you," he offered. The idea was enticing, but Leslie felt that she would probably have much of the same intent in inviting him to Iowa as he'd had in inviting her home at Christmas; she would just be using him as a sort of buffer between herself and her father.

"Yeah, because the last time we had family introductions, it went so well," she teased, rolling her eyes. But Archie had not really laughed it off like she had; he had almost winced at the comment. Leslie bit her lip. _How bad could it be if he just came for a couple days? Not the whole time, but just maybe a day or two?_

"You know, I would eventually be up to the challenge of meeting your dad. Ray did, right? He came out okay," he reasoned. _I'm not sleeping with Ray,_ Leslie thought.

"If it means that much to you," she began reluctantly, "Then I'm sure it would be all right if you stopped over to introduce yourself." Internally, Leslie tried to convince herself of that. Seeing how satisfied he seemed with the answer, though, she decided that it was the right choice and settled into her pillow for the night.

Archie watched her sleep with a certain resolve. Sure, he'd had little tinges of feeling like he could marry Leslie, but he'd never felt comfortable with the idea that he could spend a lifetime with someone. He didn't want to read too much into it, but something inside of him had changed that day, hearing how she'd thought of how horrible and life-shattering the thought of losing him was. He guessed he'd felt that way the day of the El accident, but it was different now; they were different now.

_One woman. That's it. Forever. Could I do that?_

_A/N: Again, thanks for hanging in there! Reviews are always welcome._


	13. Up In Smoke

_A/N: Thought I'd take some of the action back to the ER for a chapter. Hope you like it._

"No, no, no. Turn around and pretend you didn't see me." Archie Morris placed a hand between his face and the Resident. "Come on, Abby. I'm already late," he sighed. Morris had already changed into his jeans and t-shirt and was making tracks in the direction of the doors of County General. Duffel bag on his shoulder, he intended to hop a quick flight to Des Moines and spend a long weekend with Leslie and her family. Nothing, he was determined, would stand in his way.

"He's on the roof!" she blurted out, exasperated. Morris stopped in his tracks with a squeak from his sneakers and wheeled around. Abby, raised eyebrows, took hold of his sleeve and pulled him to the elevator. He watched the doors to the alley fade farther from view. _So close. _"Yeah, your kid from Curtains is threatening to jump. Jesus, Morris. What do you say to these kids?" Lockheart jabbed at the numbered buttons with her thumb and pushed her hair out of her face crossly.

"Chlamydia Kid?! Nothing!" he whined. "Two and two, and he figures out that his girlfriend is more than a little friendly with her calculus tutor; that's it. It's high school; kids bounce back, don't they?"

"Yeah, well you'd better hope that there's no _bouncing_ happening today." He cringed at the word and thought that perhaps she was right, and "bounce" had been the wrong choice, considering the situation.

"What am I supposed to say to him? 'You'll live to bang another day?' He's not going to jump, Abby. We both know that, right?" he asked, but his voice deceived him. There was definitely a hint of nervousness behind it. Sure, Morris could be a little self-centered at times, but he didn't want to start his grand weekend at the expense of some distraught kid.

He racked his brain trying to remember the patient in question as he and Abby made their way to the door to the roof. Earlier in the day, he hadn't thought anything was strange about the kid he'd seen. Well, no stranger than usual. The teenager had that normal "too-cool-for-school" attitude, that disinterested, daydreamy stupor kids reserved for adults and situations that might normally make them uncomfortable. Morris certainly hadn't recognized any distinct signs of depression or suicidal tendencies. Of course, he'd been somewhat distracted by the thought of meeting Leslie's family, but not enough to miss something like that. At least, he hoped so…

Morris looked out across the roof to where a tall, lanky teenager with chestnut hair was standing on the cement ledge. He stood with his legs apart to square off his frame and provide stability, which told the doctor that he wanted to remain in control, to choose whether to jump, or when.

"What makes you think I can stop him?" he hissed to Abby, who was still holding his sleeve.

"Because he told me he wanted to talk to his doctor, only I think he called you something just a little more colorful" she replied. Morris closed his eyes and swallowed. _Damn, damn, damn! _"His mother's on her way, but we just need him off the ledge."

"Yes, I see that. Got it," he muttered.

He took a deep breath and approached the ledge slowly from an angle, so that he didn't startle the kid. He could see his patient's eyes shift behind his long bangs. One of the teen's hands reached down into his pocket. Morris held his breath, wondering what the kid could be reaching for and hoping that it wasn't a knife or something worse, but a pack of cigarettes slipped out, and he exhaled.

The kid smacking the pack against his palm, and he removed a smoke. _Flick, flick! _His lighter sparked and caught the edge of the paper, burning brightly as he took a drag. _What's his name? It's with an A, isn't it? Aaron? Abe? Andrew? Yes! Andrew._

Sweat was already beginning to bead on Archie's brow, and he wiped it with the back on his arm, leaving it draped on his forehead to shade his eyes from the summer sun. He could just feel his pale skin baking, new freckles darkening by the second.

Cautiously, he leaned on the cement about six feet from Andrew's shoes, searching for words.

"Just so you know, this isn't about the Chlamydia," the kid informed him, testily blowing smoke and staring out at the city. Morris turned with interest, leaning on one elbow and taking in the scene, finally nodding. _Then what possible _crisis _could you be having that needs to delay my vacation? _He fought the urge to reply with sarcasm and instead decided to just flat-out ask what the problem was, in fact.

"Good. Right? That's good. But if it's not about-"

"Knew I wouldn't be able to hold down a girlfriend. Can't say I didn't try. She could just tell. Everyone can." He flicked away the cigarette, and Morris watched it tumble down through the air end-over-end. Down, down, down. It made the sweat feel icy on his neck. It took a moment for Morris to collect himself, wiping sweaty palms casually down the front of his jeans. Archie had never really had a problem with heights before, but he'd also never done anything like Andrew was doing. He never chose to tempt fate in that way. He swallowed hard and stared again at Andrew, still standing stoically on the ledge.

"I'm not following," he replied, playing up the 'ignorant adult' angle. "Why don't you come down here and enlighten me?" When Andrew didn't initially move, Archie shuffled a small step in his direction, reaching up a hand to help his patient safely make his way down.

The teen shrugged and jumped up in the air, landing cleanly back where he'd stood, chuckling at Morris's involuntary shudder. The doctor steadied himself and glanced down to see a cop car and a fire truck pulling up to the curb many stories below.

Archie started to get the impression that the teen was appreciating the attention and using it to toy with him. There was something about the way he was acting that told the doctor that he wasn't going to leap to his death- not intentionally anyways. _Just keep him calm. Don't get him antsy and shifty to where he could fall._

"Whatever it is, it's not worth this. Trust me, it gets better." Andrew snickered and lit another cigarette, blowing smoke down at Archie's face. It was the first time he'd turned to face the doctor, so Morris considered this a little victory. _Okay, we're communicating now. That's good. ET's phoning home. Get him down. Just get him off the ledge, and then he's someone else's problem. _"High school sucks, man. It does. And the people who tell you it's the best years of your life… then, they haven't really lived."

The doctor instantly thought back to his school days. Gym class, in particular, had been his own personal torture, with taunts of "Here, little piggy" and "Here comes the ugly suckling" becoming regular fixtures in the locker room, thanks to his own extra fixtures. There hadn't been much hope anyway for a pale, skinny, red-headed kid peppered with freckles, but that whole business had just seemed a cruel hand for fate to deal.

"You know what's waiting for me on the other side of that door, Dr. Morris? Therapy. I don't want therapy. I don't want to _talk _about my _problems._ Like there's some kind of solution that I just can't see right now." He took a long drag. "My mom's gonna freak," he said with a chuckle, shaking his head.

Morris stared at the kid before him. That's all he was; just a confused, frightened kid wearing a band t-shirt for a group Morris didn't recognize and baggy jeans with frayed hems. He remembered what it was like to feel the whole world on top of him, to want to flash forward a decade or more, to escape.

The rectangular outline of the pack of cigarettes in the kid's pocket drew his attention, and he chewed his lip in thought for a moment. It became clear how to bridge the seemingly infinite gap between them.

"Hey Andrew," he began, leaning closer to the boy on the ledge like some sort of coconspirator, "Mind if I bum a smoke?" Andrew eyed him suspiciously.

"I thought you'd be the one trying to tell me 'those things'll kill ya.'" he said in a mocking, pompous tone. "Doctors don't smoke."

"Not normally, no." The two stood silently for a moment, a couple of gunslingers sizing up the other's shot. Finally, Andrew sighed and tossed the box down to him. Morris held the pack in his hands, turning it over, reading the warning label, and fingering the individual cigarette tips, counting them absently. _Eight._

"Dude, you gonna smoke 'em or what?" Morris slid down against the ledge, his back to the bricks, and removed a smoke for himself, turning it between his fingers. He held it up at arm's length above his head, waiting for a light, and knowing that it was too far for Andrew to reach without getting down.

He heard the feet somewhere above his head shuffling. _God, don't let him fall._ The kid cursed to himself before finally taking a seat and swinging his legs around to kick back and forth carelessly next to the doctor. He lit the end of Archie's cigarette with another sigh and watched with some interest as the doctor brought it to his lips.

It had been years since Archie Morris had smoked a cigarette. What was the point, really, when he had sweet Mary Jane in his world? Cigarettes were for the rebels and the busy minds who needed equally busy hands, who took comfort in something to hold and occupy their fingers. Plus, he'd never really been one for huddling outside in the cold several times a day. Chicago winters weren't conducive to the habit. That, and he'd never much cared for the taste. But if this was what it would take to lure down his jumper, then Archie Morris would suffer through the rest of the pack if necessary. So, he took a tentative drag and resisted the urge to cough. _Smooth, dummy. It's a cigarette, not a joint. Stop holding it that way and inhaling._

It didn't go unnoticed. Andrew snickered and took another puff.

"Sorry I don't have anything stronger. Apparently that's what you're more used to, huh Dr. Morris? You dip into the glaucoma patients' stuff from time to time?" Morris chose not to answer, instead nonchalantly adjusting his hold on his cigarette.

The gravel crunched as Andrew's feet made their way down to the cement, and he took a seat next to Dr. Morris. _Sweet mother! It worked! _He controlled the urge to grab the kid and drag him, kicking and screaming, to the doors. Instead, he decided to take a page from Andrew's book and act just as detached and disinterested. So far, it seemed to be working.

His patient buried his head in his hands and then slowly tipped his head back to stare up at the sky.

"Can you really go blind staring at the sun?" he asked.

"I don't know. Not really something that they spend a lot of time on in med school. Can't be good for you," Morris added, thoughtfully.

"Not much is," Andrew replied, fiddling with his latest cigarette butt absently. "How'd you know I'd get down?" he asked.

The doctor watched the paper burn, inching its way towards his fingers. His lips had a certain tingle of numbness that wasn't entirely terrible. Still, he couldn't understand the allure of it all and had to will himself to take another.

"Well, I sorta knew the whole time, but I didn't know if you'd accidentally fall. Trip over those pant legs or something," he added gesturing towards Andrew's sloppy looking shoes and pants.

"Figures. I couldn't even pull this off like a man." He shook his head and continued to stare skyward, where a jet was coursing across the vast blue, leaving a thin white line behind it. One tiny object in an endless space. "My mom has voted Republican since Reagan. I mean, how do you tell someone like that 'Mom, I'm gay' without being treated like some kind of freak?"

Morris closed his eyes. Parents. What kind of encouraging words would he ever be able to fudge about parents?

"You'd be surprised what a parent can take from you and still love you," he replied. That sounded safe enough, and when Andrew didn't immediately snicker, he decided to continue. "There is something…resilient… about a mom's love for her kid. Especially a single mom. You're 'it' for your mom. Who you are matters to her, yes, but she wants more than anything for you to be happy, for you to be safe. Everybody in this hospital and the surrounding block knows you're unhappy right now. Believe me; we get it."

"Man, she's gonna lose it," he moaned.

Morris turned his head with interest, cocking it to one side as he took in the poor, lonely sight before him.

"Maybe. But at the end of the day, you've still got tomorrow, and eventually she's going to realize that she loved you just the way you are for sixteen-"

"_Seventeen."_

"Okay, _seventeen _years. God, _seventeen_. It gets better," he assured him, placing a hand on Andrew's shoulder. "It gets so much better."

"Do you have kids, Dr. Morris?" Andrew asked after a long period of silence. He was a bit more quiet, a bit less standoffish.

Archie knitted his brows for a moment, visions of his "children" playing in his mind, but he found himself shaking his head. Those weren't really his children. He'd never held them through the night when they'd fussed. Never run alongside a wobbly bicycle or stumbled into a chair in the early hours of Christmas morning to enjoy the squeals of delight brought on by a visit from Santa. He'd never stood watching them climb the steps of the school bus or sat nervously on the other side of a desk for parent-teacher conferences. There were so many moments of which he'd yet to feel the other side.

"Too bad." It was two tiny words. Two syllables. Six letters. The last thing that Andrew would really say to him. And then again, few things had hit with the force that they had. So they sat, two men at different stages of life and love. Two small objects in a vast space, thin tails of smoke rising up and floating against the blue. Morris stopped paying attention to the subtle movements of his patient; time, in fact, seemed to slow.

Instead, he sat in the shade of the ledge, staring blankly at his shoes and thinking about how much time had passed since he'd been in Andrew's shoes, and how much more time would pass before he'd actually have a grip on things, as he'd promised that Andrew someday would. _It really does get better… even if it takes years and years. _

A sound of footsteps hit his eardrums, but it seemed far from where his mind had wandered. Then there was a vague recognition of a woman's sobs, but it didn't shake him from his thoughts, not entirely. He felt Andrew stand at his side and take a few steps toward the door. Only then did he blink and take stock of his surroundings.

"Mom?" Andrew had walked tentatively toward the frazzled woman in the doorway. She, on the other hand, had swooped in quickly and enveloped the troubled teen in a tight embrace.

"Andrew! Jesus Christ, honey! What were you thinking? Come on baby, let's go inside. My God, you scared me. You scared me, Andrew!" Their voices drifted off as they made their way from the rooftop.

Morris watched with a bit of difficulty, knowing that he probably wouldn't receive any verbal thanks for what he'd done, but that it was present nonetheless in the relieved tears of Andrew's mother. Perhaps, his efforts hadn't been entirely because he'd had a moral obligation to the boy; perhaps much of it had been to save the part of himself that had been out on the proverbial ledge for so long. _There you go, always acting with yourself in mind._

Abby stood at the door talking to a police officer, who jotted a few notes and walked back inside. The whole time, she'd been holding the door, expecting Morris to make a dash for it once and for all, but she was surprised to find herself still holding it after the noise had died down, and everyone had gone away.

She walked out onto the roof and stood before him, her sneakers' toes touching his, and she rocked back and forth, from heel to toe, hands on hips, and thoughts running around her brain.

"Never took you for a smoker, Morris," she noted, nodding at the fresh cigarette in his fingers and then gazing at all of the discarded butts surrounding him. He squinted against the sun and shrugged.

"Me neither."

She smirked and sat down next to him, on the side opposite of where Andrew had been seated.

"Do you mind?" she asked, acknowledging the pack.

"This is the last one," he replied, politely blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth away from Abby. He let his wrist fall sideways and offered it to her, nodding in encouragement as she reached for it.

"This is probably the last scenario I would have imagined this whole thing ending with," she mused, flicking a bit of ash off of the end.

"Oh, you thought if he wasn't gonna jump before, he certainly would after a few minutes alone with me?" he asked, twiddling his thumbs since his hands were no longer occupied.

Abby smiled knowingly, rolling her eyes and replying, "Something like that." She finished the rest of her smoke and flicked it away. "Don't you have a plane to catch or something?"

Morris closed his eyes and took a breath of smoggy Chicago heat. His bed of red hair brushed against the ledge behind him, and he knocked it back against the brick in frustration. He'd _had _a flight to catch about an hour ago. That past tense was especially appropriate, as the plane had surely left the airport by now. In about an hour or so, the plane would arrive without him, and he was sure that Leslie would have some explaining to do on his behalf, which would make her a bit more cross and surly when he actually did arrive.

He didn't want to think about that. Oh he had a lot to think about, but just not about planes. Time, on the other hand… well, that was a whole different story. _Too bad. Too bad you don't have any kids. _But it _was_ just a matter of time, wasn't it? There was still time. He was snapped out of his thoughts by Lockheart's firm hands shaking him.

"Hey, are you okay, Morris?" He brushed her hands away and stood, muttering that he was fine. She caught him again, this time by the elbow. With a tired expression, he turned back to her impatiently, like a petulant child.

"Go see her. I'm sure everything will be fine. You know, you're an okay guy when you try a little, Archie." His expression softened, and he dug his hands in his pockets. The elevator slid quietly to the ground level again. The doors spread open, and Archie moved ahead of Abby without a word, hoping to escape before- "Hey, Morris!" He sighed heavily and stopped, allowing Abby to catch up. She slipped the strap of his duffel over his shoulder and offered an encouraging smile.

"Nothing else? No more crazed patients. No more delays. Do I have everything? Am I wearing pants?" he asked in mock exasperation, giving himself a once-over. Abby gave him a little shove and turned in the direction of the desk, finally leaving him to figure out how exactly he planned to get to Iowa.

"Is that Dr. Morris? I needed him to sign off on-" Abby put up a hand to halt Hope's frantic words and took the chart from her hands. She led the young doctor away to Curtains, the last sound Dr. Morris cared to take with him as he pushed through the doors and into the sticky heat of his bittersweet freedom.

_A/N: As always, the soundtrack link is available in my profile._


End file.
